Shattered Reflections
by Kalfiez-Fangwyrm
Summary: Set about a year before the movie... The Repo man goes hunting and finds something unexpected. Things unfold from there: consequences are faced, Nathan gets abused, and the Repo man becomes a bit more than just a voice in Nathan's head... V/G, L, S
1. A Repo man on the Prowl

_Ok, so this is the first chapter of my first fanfiction... I tried to keep in tone with the film, keep everyone in character... I think it worked...  
Ah, yes, strong violence and gore, harsh profanity, and sexual situations..._

**Shattered Reflections**

**or**

**Pretty Rainbow, Pretty Colors**

He ran, through the dank, filthy alleys, taking quick corners, trying to escape the dark thing following him. The man's increasingly ragged breathing echoed off the grimy stone walls, much to the delight of his pursuer, the Repo man.

His prey was several hundred yards ahead of him, but no matter; the chase always heightened his senses. He could hear the other's footsteps, faltering more and more frequently and making his heart leap with excitement every time it happened. Hell, he could practically taste the fear and bile in the other's mouth, feel the growing panic as his chest began to tighten and burn. The Repo man grinned behind his dark mask in anticipation as he followed, steadily and unerringly.

"Soon," he growled, fingers tightening around the handle of the bag he carried. "So very soon."

The rattle of chainlink and a panicked "Shit!" reached his ears. His heart rate accelerating, the Repo man quickened his pace, his heavy boots eerily silent on the pavement. A left, a right, another right, slip through the hole in the fence halfway down the alley, vault the gutter. He ran the path over in his mind. After hunting in the maze-like alleys of this city for a little over a decade and a half, he knew every twist, every turn, every potential path. He had his clients to thank for that. They ran, they always ran. In the beginning it had made him angry, but as the years wore on he grew to appreciate, anticipate, savor the chase.

He leapt over the gutter, rank with offal, and landed light and silent as a cat before slipping into the shadows. Repo clicked the light in his helmet off, letting him disappear completely in the blackness. He paused at the entrance to the dead-end, listening intently to the mad scrabbling of his target as he tried every door, each one shut and locked tight. The inhabitants of this city knew better than to come between the dark thing and his prey.

It was a wonder the horror could hear anything over the thundering of his heart in his ears, but hear he did: the frantic mutterings and scraping footsteps of the doomed man, clear as a bell. Had anyone the misfortune of seeing the grin twisting the predator's face, their blood would have frozen in their veins.

The Repo man located his victim and slunk into the dead-end, keeping to the shadows, not that it was difficult to stay out of the grungy, flickering red-neon light. Circling 'round behind him, Repo got his first good look at his victim. Tall, broad, muscular, and not much more than twenty, he didn't look much like the normal denizens of the decaying city. As the boy possessed neither the strung-out look and haphazardly pieced-together clothing of a street Zydrate junkie nor the false, strained feature of a highborn scalpel slut, the Repo man wondered if perhaps he was from one of the rare rural areas lucky enough to have been missed by the organ failures.

The monster shook the thought from his head. That was something he would let his other half worry about. He scoffed silently. His other half. A weak, sentimental fool who lacked the stomach to do his job. Their job now.

Repo stole closer to the man. No matter where he was from, he would prove a challenge, something that excited him to no end. Closer, closer, sturdy boots still silent on the street. Every step made his heart race faster, brought the other into clearer focus. He could hear the tired wheeze in his lungs, smell the sweat from his run and the offal farther down the alley. The fear and apprehension hung heavily in the air, already thick with humidity from the imminent rain. Sweat ran down the back of Repo's neck as he stopped a few scant inches behind his victim. He reached up and clicked the light in his mask back on, the creak of leather and electric hum of the light alerting his prey to his presence.

The man jumped nearly out of his skin and spun to face his stalker, stumbling back a few steps in the process. The Repo man's grin wavered, fearing this one would be like all the others: pathetic, pleading, routine. Then the boy regained his footing and straightened, his fists clenched and his chin out in defiance. The smirk returned and his hand tightened even more around his bag handle, the knuckles white within the black gloves.

"I know what you are," the youth snapped, "and I have nothing for you. Leave me alone."

This threw him for a moment. Begging, threatening, bargaining: all these he was used to. But true defiance? This was new, and it sent thrills down his spine. The Repo man took an intimidating step toward the young man. Nothing. Not a flinch, not even a blink: nothing, except perhaps for a slight tightening in the muscles of his jaw. Repo drew himself up to his full height and took another step.

The boy swung a fist, catching him in the left side of his mask and smashing it into his face, cracking the visor. Repo staggered, his bag hitting the pavement with a heavy thud. He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear his vision as his would-be victim dropped into a defensive stance. He pulled his helmet off, gave the cracked Plexiglas a disgusted look, and tossed it to the ground before turning his now-bare gaze to the other. He brought a gloved hand up and laid it gently on his cheek, pain lancing from the soon-to-be bruised skin at the feather-light touch. The salty, metallic taste of blood trickled across his tongue as he probed the gash his teeth left in the inside flesh of his cheek.

"Damn, boy," Repo growled, spitting blood. "You clocked me good. Been a while since I tasted my own blood."

He chuckled darkly as he knelt and began rummaging through his large leather bag. He pulled out his favorite multi-purpose scalpel and held it up, turning it 'round in his hand and lovingly watching the light play off its surfaces.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

The youth rushed him and Repo uncoiled like a striking snake, smashing his left fist, fingers wrapped around his multi-scalpel, into the boy's face. Bones crunched beneath the blow and blood gushed from his nose, filling the humid air with its thick, metallic scent. The boy reeled, hands flying to his broken face. His assailant moved with him, keeping only inches between them, excitement burning in his belly and adrenalin screaming through his veins. He easily deflected a blind swing from the younger man and grabbed his throat with his free hand, roughly shoving him against the cement alley wall and knocking the wind out of him. Blood splattered across the older man's face.

He leered at the boy, teeth bared aggressively, breathing heavily. Repo traced the youth's jawline with his blade, leaving a thin line of red on his skin before splitting the boy's shirt with the longer blade of his scalpel. Pulling open the torn fabric with his knife, he examined the bare torso as blood dripped onto and ran down the hand at his throat.

"Well now," the predator growled, one gloved finger tracing several of the faint scars on the boy's chest and stomach, "seems someone's been lying to me."

"No," the prey gasped, panic starting to creep into his voice. "It's not what you think."

The dark thing chuckled wickedly as he nicked the young man's skin. "That's what they all say."

"Look here, you bastard," he snapped before kneeing his assailant in the groin.

Repo doubled over in pain, releasing his prey, who shoved him away and staggered off down the alley. With a snarl he regained his most of his composure and stalked after the fleeing man. A strong kick to his back sent him tumbling face-first into the filthy concrete. Two quick slashes hamstrung his victim, earning him his first scream. His blood sang at the sound as he shoved the boy onto his back with a booted toe and laid his foot across his throat.

"You're gonna pay for that, you little fucker," he snarled.

"No, please don't. I'm sorry," the young man wheezed, his voice thick with pain and terror. "Please, just let me go. I'll give you whatever you want."

"Stop whining," Repo snapped, giving him a swift kick to the head.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his scalpel-hand as he went to retrieve his bag, limping slightly as he moved. He scooped up the bag and turned back to his prey, a small, icy smile creeping across his blood-stained face. The boy was still trying to escape, pushing himself along backwards, legs dragging uselessly. Repo sauntered back over to his target, dropped the bag next to him, and pushed him back to the pavement with a foot to the chest.

"And where do you think you're going?"

The youth laughed nervously. "Nowhere, obviously."

A smile, a real smile, not the twisted, frozen thing that had previously appeared, crossed his face. You had to hand it to him, the boy had spunk. The Repo man knelt by him and brought his face close to the other's. Head cocked to one side, he studied the young man.

"You know, it's almost a pity you have to pay," the predator told his prey, his voice sounding almost wistful, his face and eyes softening slightly. A small sigh escaped him before his face turned to ice again.

The boy gasped as his captor's gaze met his. "What the hell is wrong with your eyes?" he sputtered, drawing back an inch or so before being grabbed 'round the jaw.

Repo pulled the youth back closer to him, nicking his cheek. "My eyes?"

"Th-they don't reflect anything."

"What a strange thing to notice," he mused quietly. His eyes flicked to the scarred flesh. "So, what'd you get done, kid? Heart? Kidneys? Liver, spleen, intestines?"

This line of questioning set alarm bells ringing in the part of his mind occupied by his other half. They never started a job without knowing exactly what they were after, never made a mistake, always double-checked the assignment sheet before making the first incision. The Repo man's other half ran through his memories of tonight. One job, female, mid-forties, heart. Another: male, 20, skin grafts, eyes, liver. Dinner. Then... Nothing until the chase began. He forced the hand wrapped around the boy's jaw away and reached for the bag, searching for the assignment sheet.

"Stop that," Repo growled, eyeing his errant hand angrily.

_What are you doing?_ his other half snapped.

"My job. Now be quiet."

The trapped boy looked around, confused. "Who are you talking to?"

"No one. Let's get started, shall we?"

"I already told you, man, I don't have anything for you. It's not what you think."

Repo just shook his head and straddled the youth's hips, pinning his hands to the ground with his knees. The young man gave him a very confused and very terrified look and struggled harder than he had before.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he all but screamed, panic and fright even stronger in his voice.

"Shh," the Repo man reprimanded, blade laid across his victim's lips.

He chuckled quietly at the boy's reaction to the other man sliding on top of him. It would seem that the idea of potential sexual assault terrified him more so than his impending death. Granted, Repo hadn't been thinking when he'd climbed atop the young man but now... He turned the thoughts 'round in his head as he drew the blade over the boy's throat and down his torso in long, sinuous curves, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to actually cut.

**He is handsome,** he mused. **Well made, not to mention - **

_Why are you thinking this?_ his other half intruded. _We're not gay._

**I thought I told you to stay quiet,** he retorted. **You never let me play with that pretty little thing you keep locked away upstairs, or anyone else for that matter... Besides, you know how I get every time we do a job.**

It was true. The blood, the screams, the fear... It always left him worked up and nothing seemed to help. He'd tried masturbating before a job in the hope that it would keep him satisfied. No help. Then he tried after he finished the assignment. Hell, he even tried fucking a stiff once. No luck, he just couldn't get off, leaving him to walk home every time with a raging hard-on.

_You disgust me._

Repo laughed out loud, startling the young man beneath him. **You know, you really should do something about that self-loathing…**

He unclasped and peeled off his gloves, dropping them on the cement. Much to his surprise, the boy's already racing heart sped up even more than he thought possible when now-bare hands ran across his chest and stomach. Warm and firm, the flesh beneath his palms felt so, young, so fresh. Repo let out a quiet growl as he felt blood rush south, causing an uncomfortable tightness in his trousers. He moved to relieve the pressure by undoing his pants. His hand stopped halfway of its own volition.

_Don't. You. Dare,_ his other half snarled, a far cry from the usual meek tone he used.

The Repo man roared in frustration and slashed a shallow cut across his victim's stomach, causing him to scream again. Chest heaving and teeth clenched and bared, he struggled to regain his composure. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened them, the frigid professionalism had returned.

Several quick strokes created a Y-incision over the youth's collarbones and down the center of his chest and stomach. He slipped his still-naked fingers into the cut and pulled the flesh open, yanking muscle away from bone when it stuck. The boy's screams echoed off the alley walls.

"Beautiful," the dark thing murmured, gazing at the exposed organs.

Fascinated, he watched the lungs expand to full capacity, pushing the ribs out around them before collapsing as the boy shrieked. His heart was barely visible beneath the sternum, pounding hell-bent for leather in its pericardium. Rolling his neck and shoulders, Repo plunged his hands into the body cavity and began his grisly work.

The intestines were first, ending up in a slithery pile on the pavement.

Liver, stomach, kidneys.

Blood and bodily fluids coated his hands and welled up underneath the cuffs of his coat.

Bladder, pancreas, spleen.

The warm organs were slick and his grip slipped several times.

Heart and lungs, all of which had ceased to function by the time he reached them.

The last organ dropped to the ground with a wet slap.

The Repo man sat back on his haunches and surveyed the ghastly scene around him: the now-empty shell of the young man, his organs surrounding him on the cement, and the blood. So much blood, splattered on the ground, across the Repo man's leathern coat, covering his hands and face and scalpel. He didn't know when the screaming had stopped and wasn't sure why, whether the boy had screamed himself hoarse, passed out from the pain and fear, or if he had died howling. He supposed it didn't much matter.

Standing stiffly and stretching to ease his strained muscles, Repo drew a hand down his face, smearing even more blood on his already blood- and sweat-streaked skin. He'd gotten blood on his face when he tried to wipe the sweat away and when his scalpel slipped and he accidentally nicked the aorta. He shook his head angrily at the memory. A rookie mistake.

The night surgeon knelt and began giving the rapidly cooling organs a closer inspection. They were good, healthy organs, save for the occasional bit of scarring, and none of them bearing the familiar "GeneCo" barcode. This sent his other half into a screaming panic. Repo grinned. The screams ringing in his head were even sweeter than those that had recently echoed off these walls. He didn't answer any of the questions being thrown at him as he turned the organs 'round in his hands.

Turning over the liver, he frowned at what he saw there: a barcode, different from GeneCo's, and a message reading "Prowdly bring you by JeenCo" tattooed in the flesh beneath it. He quickly rechecked the others. One of the kidneys and the pancreas also bore this mark. Repo grabbed his bag and pulled out one of the clear plastic organ bags, glad he'd brought it along. The fat man would want to see this.

Bag packed and broken mask in hand, he stood and rolled his neck and shoulders again, the bones cracking and popping satisfactorily. Several raindrops plopped on his wet face and the back of his neck as he checked his watch. Only 10 pm. Seemed later. He shrugged. It was always dark in the city, as if the sun was loath to shine on this grungy, decaying hellhole.

His mind a roiling storm, the Repo man moved off silently through the dirty streets. His streets.

**A/N: So, I discovered what a horrbily evil person I am while writing this... Every time the Repo man did something particularly evil I was like "Hell yeah!" I also realized about the fourth time through editing and such how similar it is to the beginning of the film... *sighs* Not intentional, just the way the beast flowed... Oh, and when I sent this off to be beta'd I asked my friend what I should call it... He said "Pretty Rainbow, Pretty Colors"...**

**Bonus points if you can name the song I took some inspiration (as well as stole and rewrote some of the lyrics) from...**


	2. Nightmares

_Ah, and so the madness continues... Mild violence, strong language, and somewhat rough (possibly gay?) sex..._

"NO!"

Nathan Wallace sat bolt upright with a scream. Breathing heavily and covered in a cold sweat, his heart thundering in his chest, he looked around and realized he was safe in his dark bedroom. The little illumination there was came from the numbers projected in an eerie, ghostly blue from his alarm clock. He checked the time. 3:12. He laid back in bed, heart rate returning to normal, and flung an arm over his eyes.

"A nightmare. Just another nightmare," he muttered shakily. "God, it felt so damn _real_."

Nightmares were nothing new. They'd been plaguing him ever since his beloved Marni died, but lately they seemed to be increasing in both volume and tangibility, something that both frightened and worried him to no end.

Fuzzy, half-remembered images and sensations flitted through his mind: the rank stench of fear, screams echoing off alley walls, his hands buried wrist-deep in the warm, wet body cavity, blood covering everything. He'd felt powerful, ecstatic, and turned-on as he divested the nameless boy of his organs. He shuddered and forced the memories from his mind.

Now that he was awake, Nathan felt physically dirty, like the dream had left an actual grime on his skin. Thunder rumbled faintly somewhere off in the distance. He took his arm off his eyes and let it flop onto the bed next to him.

"I'll never be able to get back to sleep like this," he grumbled.

With a sigh, he threw the sheet off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Nathan interlaced his fingers and stretched his hands over his head, letting loose a satisfied groan as his muscles warmed and his spine popped. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his bare collarbone (being clad in only pajama pants).

"Mmm, shower," he mumbled when he realized his skin felt like it was coated in dirt.

Nathan debated with himself for a moment as to whether or not he should put his glasses on. (As it was, he didn't _really_ need them; he could see just fine.) Deciding it would be a waste of time—as the room was near pitch-black and he'd only have to take them back off in a minute—he stood, stretched again, and grabbed his glasses anyway before walking unerringly through his bedroom to the attached bathroom.

He closed his eyes and clicked on the bathroom light, reopening them when it was safe. His mind took the momentary delay to start running through the dream again, much to his irritation. Mind whirring, he ran on autopilot as he got his shower ready, steam quickly filling the smallish room and fogging up the oval mirror over the porcelain pedestal sink where his glasses were sitting.

Slipping off his trousers, he kicked them across the black and white floor tile and stepped into his clawfoot tub. The hot water pittering on his skin felt fantastic. He faced the showerhead and stuck his own into the stream, letting the water run down his face. The warmth helped to clear his head as he watched the faintly rust-colored water spiral down the drain.

The observation struck Nathan like a runaway truck. He blinked the water out of his eyes and looked down at his hands. Clean streaks from the water ran through the dried blood coating them from fingertip to just above his wrists.

"No-no-no-no-no!" he half-shrieked in panic as he practically leapt out of the shower, nearly getting caught up in the clear plastic curtain and falling.

He skidded across the tile to the sink, using it to catch and steady himself, the shower still running. Wiping away the steam on the mirror, he examined himself. His face was streaked and smeared with dried blood, intercut with clean paths the water had worn through the red-brown crust. Frantically, Nathan turned the sink on and started scrubbing and scraping at his hands before turning to his face, his short nails making quick work of the blood. Dull pain shot from the left side of his face as he worked.

"No," he moaned, staring at the purple bruise on his left cheek.

**Is that **_**all**_** you know how to say?** his dark side griped.

"You," Nathan growled accusingly as he put on his glasses. "You did this."

"No. _We_ did this."

Nathan started at the sound and spun around. Nothing. The bathroom was empty except for him. Someone chuckled darkly.

"You're not that crazy yet. I'm still mostly in your head."

Still on edge, he turned back to the sink. Something in the mirror caught his attention and he focused on it. His eyes widened at what he saw: a copy of himself, in almost full Repo gear (lacking only the helmet) and seated on the tank of the toilet. There was something warped about his copy; it seemed darker somehow, cold and sadistic. His doppelganger grinned like a serrated knife.

"Oh look, you found me," he growled mockingly. His eyes flicked to the sink and back. "You're wasting water."

Nathan shot the Repo man an irritated glance before turning off the sink and shower. He toweled himself off to the best of his ability in the humid room and pulled on the same trousers he'd kicked across the floor, having neglected to bring a clean pair with him. Settling his waistband into a more comfortable position, he turned his attention back to the mirror where his other half was watching him with an amused grin. He deftly twirled the multi-scalpel between his fingers.

"Feeling vulnerable, were we?" Repo taunted.

"No," Nathan snapped defensively.

The dark thing in the mirror chuckled. "Liar."

He was right, Nathan had felt horribly vulnerable. Still did, in fact; the pajama pants offered no protection from the other's gaze. His eyes were as cold and as sharp as the blade he held and seemed to slice everything away, leaving Nathan's soul completely exposed to his icy glare. Nathan leaned heavily on the sink, his hands on the rim and his head hanging in exhaustion.

"I can't believe you did that," the bespectacled man said. He brought his head up and glared at his double. "How could you do such a thing?"

Repo snorted a laugh. "Easy. Locate, track, disembowel. You know the drill."

"That's not what I meant."

The savage smile returned. "I know that. You forget, I know you better than you know yourself, coward." He spat the last word as if it tasted bad. He thought for a moment, twirling his blade pensively before continuing. "I needed to hunt, to kill –"

"Kill?" Nathan cut in, staring at his dark half in disbelief. "We had two jobs tonight. Is your bloodlust so insatiable that you've taken to randomly killing innocent people?"

"I'm not insatiable," Repo growled. "I just needed something better than the rookie jobs we've been getting lately. Aren't we supposed to be the best?"

"So that's what this is all about, isn't it?" Nathan accused, disgust clear on his face. "You and your challenges and your goddamn pride."

"It's not about pride," the Repo man snarled. "It's about self-respect." He snorted in derision. "One of us has to have it."

"I have self-respect," Nathan shot back.

"Really? That's why when you got drunk after dinner you ended up in a sniveling, wailing ball of guilt and self-loathing curled up on the floor in the hallway upstairs?" He rolled his eyes. "It was pathetic."

Nathan closed his eyes and straightened, massaging the bridge of his nose as he processed the information.

"Why don't I remember that?"

"The booze, probably. Thankfully I was there to keep you from making an even bigger ass of yourself than you already were."

Something about what the Repo man said struck him as odd. "Wait, what do you mean 'thankfully you were there'?"

"You," he began, pointing the longer blade at his other half, "staggered off down the hall to the girl's room with some half-ass idea that she was your dead wife and you were going to apologize for killing her. I took the reins just as we stumbled into her room, bawling like a freshly branded calf." The serrated smile crossed his face again. "You should have seen her face. I think we scared the hell out of her."

Nathan's brow furrowed. "What did you do to her?" he growled suspiciously, glaring at Repo.

"Relax; I didn't touch your pretty little prisoner. I was after blood, not pussy," his dark side said with a chuckle, then shrugged. "All I did was give her the key to the liquor cabinet, told her to hide it. No, what scared her was the fact that I don't think she'd heard her daddy's voice sound quite so gravelly before. That and we were a straight-up mess, all red-eyed and tear-streaked and reeking of alcohol."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Done what? Have her hide the key? I wouldn't of had to if you weren't such a fucking lightweight. Two shots of scotch and you're crying your eyes out like a little bitch. Luckily for me, alcohol just screws up your already crappy judgment and I wasn't fighting to walk straight." He scratched his jaw with the short blade of the scalpel, careful not to cut himself, then sighed. "Because nothing says 'stealthy predator' and inspires fear quite like a staggering drunk."

"I thought this wasn't about pride," Nathan scoffed.

"Well," Repo began, a small, sly smirk creeping across his face, "maybe just a little."

"And how much did that boy boost your pride?" Nathan spat with a sneer.

"What? Because he was 'innocent'?" He put air quotes around the last word then snorted. "That boy may not have had any GeneCo organs in him, but at least he didn't just lie down and die like some of the targets we've been sent after lately. No one's fought back for years. That boy actually landed a couple of good hits before I took him out." He ran leather-clad fingertips down his left cheek, the pain lancing from the bruise catching Nathan by surprise. "He had courage, fire, and I respected him for that."

"Respect," Nathan said with a faint, disbelieving laugh and shook his head. "How can you talk of respect when you would have done who-knows-what to that boy were I not there?"

"Regardless of what I thought about him, he was just prey; a target. Targets aren't people, they're just that: targets. Things. Things are meant to be used. And yes, I just left him there," the dark thing added, seeing the question forming on Nathan's face. He shrugged. "Street clean-up's not my job."

"You're a monster."

The Repo man laughed heartily. "You would know. You're the one who made me all those years ago, when you couldn't stand the thought of being the one ripping out organs. Don't look so surprised. I know what I started out as: a persona you could hide behind, slip on and off as easily as this coat so that when you looked in the mirror you could tell yourself, 'It's not me doing those terrible things, it's him, that monster, the Repo man' and you didn't have to feel so ashamed and guilty. And now how do you feel, Dr. Frankenstein?"

"Shut up." Nathan pulled a hand down his face, wincing as he ran across the bruised flesh. "God, Rotti's going to be so pissed."

"Why? He should be pleased; we found out someone is selling knockoff organs right under his nose."

"That's not the point," Nathan stated, glaring at his doppelganger. "We weren't on an assignment –"

"Details," his dark side replied, waving away his concern. "What should the how and why matter anyway?"

"Because I do as I'm told –"

"Yes," Repo cut in, sliding off the toilet and stalking up behind his other half, "I know." He folded his arms and leaned up against Nathan's broad shoulders, talking to him over one. "You do whatever the fat man tells you to, don't you? He says jump, you ask how high. He says kill, you ask who and when." He leaned in close, gave Nathan's ear a swift lick, and continued in a near-whisper. "He says on your knees and you say 'yes, master'."

"That's not true," Nathan snarled, rolling his shoulders and trying to throw the other off of him. "Get the fuck away from me."

Unmoving, the Repo man clucked disapprovingly. "So hostile. I know damn well you wouldn't take that tone with _him_. Maybe I should start handling you a bit more firmly from now on." He tugged Nathan's short, graying hair, hard enough to jerk his head back a little. "You'd probably like that, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about…"

A small, almost exasperated sigh escaped the doppelganger. "I don't know why to try to lie to me. I'm in here all day, every day with all your deepest, darkest thoughts and secrets. Hell, I am one of 'em. I know you get off on punishment. Admit it." He gave the same ear a playful bite. "You like being his bitch."

"No, I –"

Repo yanked Nathan's hair again, much harder this time. "Don't lie to me," he snarled. "Do it again and I won't be so kind."

He laid the blade meaningfully against the other's throat, the cold steel warming as it absorbed the heat from his skin. Nathan sagged, his head down and hands on the sink: a silent affirmative. The scalpel left his throat.

"That's what I thought," Repo said before looking his other half up and down with a sneer. "You degrade us."

Nathan's head shot up and he met the other's gaze in the mirror, glaring angrily.

"Don't you look at me like that," the Repo man snarled, cuffing Nathan in the side of the head. "It's insulting the way he treats us. The way you _let_ him treat us, the things you let him do to us…" He snarled angrily before regaining his calm, then cocked his head to the side and regarded Nathan curiously. "Y'know, I don't get you. So hung up over your dead whore that you cry every time you jerk off—which is a rare occurrence in and of itself—yet the only time you're not filled with guilt and self-loathing is when you've got your master's cock either in your mouth or up your ass."

Nathan's eyes narrowed. "Don't you call Marni a whore," he growled quietly.

"So that's what we're gonna take offence to, is it? Fine." He shrugged. "I call it like I see it. You saw how fast she left the fat man. The two of you were married practically before he realized she was gone."

"That may be, but _we_ were in love, married and with a baby on the way. It was –"

"Perfect? Yes, I'm sure that's what he thought as well. We all see what happened with that. I'm pretty sure she would have taken off the second a hotter piece of ass walked by. Although," he mused, preening himself a bit, "I don't know how it gets much better than this."

"I don't believe you."

"About what? That your whore'd take off at the drop of a hat or that we're the epitome of sexy?"

"Both."

The Repo man rolled his eyes. "I'll just leave you to your delusions about that first one but when it comes to the second? Come on… I'd fuck me."

The scalpel fell with a clatter and leather-clad hands slipped onto Nathan's hips. Worry started worming its way into his brain. Things were starting to seem a little too real.

"Given the fact that I can't do that," Repo continued, grinding his crotch against Nathan's ass, "I'll settle for fucking you."

"You're disgusting," Nathan snapped and tried to work his way out of the other's grasp, succeeding only in making him tighten his grip.

"Come on," Repo growled quietly as he grazed his teeth over Nathan's shoulder. "You wouldn't let me have that boy earlier and thanks to you not letting anyone touch us but your master, we haven't had a decent fuck in years. It's not like no one would volunteer…"

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, trying to ignore the things his other half was doing to him and instead focus on his words.

The Repo man chuckled. "I take it you've never noticed the way a couple of the fat man's kids look at us. His daughter and that pissed-off boy of his. Well, the way that boy looks at me..." He gave the side of Nathan's neck a gentle bite. "Y'know, I've heard rumors about that family. Maybe we could have a little fun with both of 'em at the same –"

"Do you think about anything besides sex?" Nathan cut in, acutely aware of the hot breath on his skin and the stiffness pressing against his backside.

"Occasionally," his dark half joked as he nipped and licked the other's shoulder, gloved hands trailing up and down his bare sides. "Really, though, can you blame me? It's been so long and doing this job… It's like putting out fire with fucking gasoline."

Nathan started to ask what he meant but was cut off when Repo bucked his hips and shoved him forward, banging his erection against the sink. His –? Good God, was he actually enjoying this?

"Damn right you're enjoying this," the dark thing snarled quietly into his ear as he slipped his fingers into the waistband of Nathan's pants. Repo grinned wickedly at him. "Maybe later we can play with your pretty little thing down the hall." He gave Nathan's ear another playful bite. "I promise not to hurt her… much."

"You won't touch her," Nathan said, frighteningly quiet.

The Repo man, who had been sliding Nathan's pants down, stopped and met the other's gaze. Jaw set and steel glinting in his pale green eyes, Nathan was a much different man from the meek, mild one who had suffered (and enjoyed, though he'd be reluctant to admit it) his dark side's abuses. Repo eyed him warily.

"Fine," he finally conceded. "No use fighting over future possibilities when the here-and-now is so… enjoyable."

"Ignoring just how sick and twisted this is, are we?"

"Sick and twisted?" He chuckled as he moved to start worrying the other side of Nathan's neck. "This ain't sick and twisted, it's just, a different way to masturbate." His head shot up, a malicious grin on his face and his eyes glittering wickedly. "Speaking of which," he said almost gleefully, "do you think you'll cry?"

"No," Nathan said through clenched teeth as his trousers slid lower.

He sucked in a sharp breath as his pants slipped off his hips and the head of his penis brushed against the cold sink. Strong, leather-clad fingers wrapped 'round his freed shaft, massaging it with long, even strokes and the occasional gentle squeeze, making him moan. Awash in the pleasure tingling through his body, he closed his eyes.

"Damn, and here I was kinda hoping you would," Repo rasped, grinding against the other man.

"Wh- What were we talking about?" Nathan fought his way through the haze engulfing him and looked at his doppelganger in confusion.

"Fuck if I know or even care anymore," the Repo man snarled, letting go of Nathan and taking a step back. "The pants. Lose 'em."

For a second time that night those trousers took a trip skidding across the black and white tile. Nathan, arms folded over his chest in what he hoped looked like nonchalance and stomach quivering in anticipation, watched the man behind him undo clasps and open his coat with the jingle of steel and the creak of leather. Gloved hands ran up his back, across his shoulders, and down to his wrists, untangling his arms and setting his hands commandingly on the rim of the sink about shoulder-width apart. A firm, sweeping kick spread his legs.

He looked down into the sink and his brow furrowed in confusion. What was his multi-scalpel doing there? Granted, Repo had had it, but he was mostly in his head, right?

_Too real, it's getting too real!_ part of his mind screamed at him in panic.

A zip, the rustle of fabric, a relieved groan behind him…

He picked up the scalpel curiously. It felt cold and heavy and real in his hands.

Hot flesh at his entrance, strong hands on his hips…

He twirled the blade the way Repo had and watched the light glint off its surfaces.

_Don't you see? We've finally g—!_

The panicked voice was cut off when, with a rough shove, the Repo man entered Nathan, nearly making him drop the scalpel at the somewhat unexpected move. Both parties groaned and shuddered in pleasure.

Repo closed his left hand over Nathan's and forced it back to the porcelain with a quiet snarl, the message clear: you don't move without my permission. He kept it pinned, palm-down, as he worked the rest of his shaft into the other man. Loosing a delicious rumble, Repo paused for a moment, relishing the tight warmth gripping his sensitive flesh.

Nathan's knuckles were white from his death grip on the sink and his scalpel, the knuckles of that hand being ground against the ceramic by Repo. If he kept it up, it wouldn't surprise either of them to find his fingers bruised at the end of this little venture. As for the pain coming from the abused digits, well, Nathan had suffered far worse at Rotti's hands, so it didn't much bother him. In truth, he rather liked it. In addition to pushing some masochistic button in him, it offered a contrast to and heightened the pleasure spreading through his body as the Repo man started moving within him.

He adopted an andante pace, almost out and back in, the first stroke smooth, the second rough and aggressive, hilting himself inside the other man at the end of every thrust. Nathan let out a soft moan, enjoying himself far more than he thought possible considering just how fucking weird this whole situation was.

Repo may not have been as thick as Rotti but he made up for it in length, reaching previously untouched places in Nathan that made him squirm and whimper. Not to mention that he –

"Stop comparing me to your master, bitch," Repo snarled, cuffing him upside the head with his right hand, the left still gripping Nathan's, not missing a beat.

"Sorry," the bespectacled man mumbled.

The Repo man merely snarled again and let his hand wander over Nathan's body, searching out all the sensitive spots that made him moan and his knees want to buckle. Repo wished he'd had the forethought to take off his gloves; he could have brought his (albeit short) nails into play and roughed Nathan up a bit more, something that wouldn't have gone amiss with either of them. As it was, he didn't much feel like slowing down or stopping. Speeding up, on the other hand… He did so gradually, sharp teeth and hot tongue back to working at the other's neck and shoulders.

Breath coming in shorter, faster gasps, Nathan could feel the heat and pressure begin building up inside him. Repo's hand slid lower and started teasing his painfully hard cock with light fingers. His own fingers somehow tightened even more, to the point he feared he might _actually _break a chunk off of the sink, and he moaned loudly, making the Repo man smirk smugly against his skin.

Fuck, he was getting close and he could tell Repo was as well. His thrusting had become erratic and he'd stopped nipping Nathan, instead clamping his teeth firmly onto his left shoulder. His hand traveled back to Nathan's hip, gripping tight as instincts drove him faster, harder, deeper. Muscles tightening, the heat and pressure building up like a dam about to burst…

Nathan came with a whimper, rather anti-climactic compared to the way his release crashed down on him, flooding him with endorphins and making it difficult to stay standing. Repo was right behind him, biting down hard on his shoulder and loosing what would have been a roar had it not been muffled in Nathan's flesh.

The small part of his brain not swimming in happy-juices dryly noted that not only was there a new, hand-shaped bruise on his right hip, the Repo man's teeth had broken the skin during his climax.

"Holy fuck," Nathan somehow managed between pants.

Repo chuckled. "There wasn't nothing holy about that fuck," he said, resting his chin on Nathan's swollen shoulder. He reminded Nathan of a lion lounging in the sun after a meal: smug, self-satisfied, and perhaps a little sleepy but still wholly dangerous. "Although, you are welcome to worship me if you feel compelled to do so…"

"Cocky bastard," Nathan wheezed, rolling his eyes.

Repo nuzzled the side of Nathan's neck. "Hey, you weren't complaining when this bastard's cock was –" His head came up and a malicious grin spread across his face. "Oh my."

Nathan was just about to ask "what" when he was cut off by a new voice off to his right.

"Dad?"

**A/N: Oh man, how is Nathan gonna explain that one? And boy, is the Repo man arrogant... Not to mention a blast to write :D Yep, I'm airing some of my speculations via Repo. First time I've actually written some sort of sex scene, as well... I didn't intend to go there, but after a small argument my brain gave me the finger and hit the override button. I dunno, _is_ it gay? Cos, well, technically they're the same person so...**

**Ah, last chapter's musics... 'Twas the beginning to "Suite Sister Mary" by Queensryche, off the "Operation: mindcrime" album: "10p.m. I feel the rain coming down/My face feels wet, my mind the storm/Flashing lights as people race to find shelter from the pour [ok, so I didn't use that line...]/Moving silent through the streets/They're mine. They're mine"... Yeah, look familiar? Seriously people, to the YouTube, I f-ing love that album. This installation's song reference shouldn't be that difficult to spot provided you know said song... Yeah, I'll probably put some reference to some music in every chapter. Why? Because it entertains me, I think it's a game... Translation: I'm an ass...**


	3. Between Sex and Violence

Nathan snapped his head toward the sound in time to see Shilo disappear in a flash of pale limbs and cloth, the door to the hallway closing slowly in her wake. She'd sounded so worried and embarrassed and completely freaked out. He panicked. How long had she been standing there? How much did she see? overhear? He looked at himself in the mirror. He was completely disheveled: bruised, sweaty, hair all messed-up, glasses askew, blood dripping onto his chest.

"Let's not forget that mess you made on the sink," Repo added, flicking his gaze down to the aforementioned item.

Nathan knew (well, "hoped" would be a far more accurate term) that she couldn't see the dark thing leering at him. He turned from the mirror and –

_He took off down the hall after her, not bothering to stop and put his pants back on. Catching up with her just outside of her room, he pushed her against the wall and pinned both of her hands above her head with just one of his. He kissed her aggressively, hungrily, his other hand roaming over her body, slipping underneath –_

He shook the images from his head and moved over to where his trousers lay in a crumpled pile on the floor, readjusting his glasses as he went.

"Aw, now why'd you stop?" Repo asked. "That, my friend, was quite delicious."

"Shut up," Nathan snapped, pulling his pants on, his back to the sink. "You did that."

"Yes, just blame everything on me," the Repo man growled sarcastically. "In case you didn't notice, that shit was in italics, not bold. That's you, not me…"

Nathan paused, a bit thrown. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's not that important. They know what I'm talking about."

"O-kay…" Deciding his dark half was more than a little crazy, Nathan turned back toward the mirror and nearly jumped out of his skin. "How the hell did you get out of there?"

The now-very-solid Repo man (his coat closed and not a hair out of place or a streak of sweat on him) shrugged and tapped the blade against his chin. "I guess you are that crazy now. Actually, I think you have been for a little while." He grinned wickedly. "You don't think I could have done all that to you if I was just a reflection, do you?"

Nathan simply stared at him for a moment, then rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and blinked profusely, as if trying to get something out of his eyes. He looked over by the sink. Repo looked right back, an eyebrow raised.

"Was I supposed to disappear?" he asked curiously.

Nathan sighed and rubbed his forehead. "A man can hope…"

The other shrugged. "Sorry." He then laughed. "No, not really. I actually quite like watching you fret over your sanity."

"You're a –"

"Monster," he finished. "Yes, so you keep telling me. Y'know, you're starting to sound like that annoying bitch that's in here sometimes. Sounds like a fucking broken record. Thank God I got rid her. Hopefully she'll fucking stay gone."

Nathan, not exactly understanding and not wanting to, just shook his head and turned to go out into the hall.

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to my daughter, make sure she's okay," he called over his shoulder.

"Looking like that?" came the lazy reply.

Finger-combing his hair into something halfway presentable, he pulled open the door just as an automated voice announcing an incoming message came from his bedroom and stopped him dead in his tracks. The Repo man smirked and whistled as if calling to a dog. With an angry, frustrated snarl, Nathan slammed the door and stormed back into his bedroom, Repo leaning idly against the doorjamb as the other man clicked on the lamp. Scooping the wrist-com off the bedside table, he punched the button to receive the message.

"Nathan Wallace to my office immediately!" barked the digitized voice of Rotti Largo.

"Well," Repo stated as Nathan cut the signal and dropped the bit of plastic and circuitry back onto the table. "He sounded pissed."

"I noticed," Nathan growled, sweeping through the door and down the hall.

The Repo man fell in a step behind him. "Not rushing to our master's side, ready and eager to lick his boots?"

"He can wait," Nathan snapped as they neared Shilo's door, quiet but still venomous.

A broad grin crossed Repo's face as he leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the door, arms folded and watching Nathan. "It seems there is some fire left in you. I'm almost surprised."

Nathan shot his dark half a warning look before knocking quietly on his daughter's door.

"Shilo, honey, are you still awake?" he asked, his voice gentle and filled with concern.

Silence, then, grudgingly: "Yes."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, Dad, I'm fine. I should be asking you that. What happened; where'd those bruises come from?"

"It's nothing, sweetheart, really, I'm fine. I just, banged myself up a bit."

Repo burst out laughing and Nathan turned a curious eye to him.

"C'mon. 'I banged myself'? It's funny, because, y'know…" He trailed off under Nathan's withering glare. "Oh, grow a sense of humor, ya asshole. It's too bad GeneCo don't make those; I'd have one implanted in you in a heartbeat."

"Doing what?" Shilo asked, oblivious to her father's side-conversation.

"His alter-ego," the Repo man responded, laughing.

Nathan shot him a look that read "shut the fuck up" before replying, "Nothing. It was just a silly accident. Doing something that I shouldn't have been." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Shilo, I think we need to talk about what happened in the bathroom."

She sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I interrupted your 'special alone time', Dad, I just, I had to go to the bathroom and when I opened the door I saw you were all bruised and bleeding and it just came out before I realized…" Another sigh.

"Shilo, all I was doing was –"

"Getting fucked by a hallucination?" the Repo man offered. "A damn sexy hallucination…"

"Ugh, Dad, please, I _really_ don't want to talk about your masturbation habits."

"Well that's a boldfaced lie," Repo snorted.

Shocked, the bespectacled man stared at the other in disbelief, somehow managing to keep his voice calm and gentle.

"Honey –"

"Really, Dad, it's okay. I understand." Discomfort colored her voice.

"Damn right, she understands," Repo commented, earning him a questioning look from Nathan. The doppelganger simply rolled his eyes, jerked his head in Shilo's direction, and made a lewd pumping motion near his crotch. "Okay, she doesn't do it exactly like that, but you get the idea."

Nathan gave the Repo man a look that said "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Do you?" he somehow managed to ask his daughter.

"Yes. Please, can we just leave it at that?" she almost pleaded.

"C'mon, think about it. She's sixteen, locked up in her room _all_ the time… alone… Plus, you know she hacks the porn channels when you're not paying attention, right? Quit looking at me like that, it's no big deal. Teenage horniness is _not_ a crime. Although…" Repo trailed off, lost in thought (most likely something filthy involving Shilo and a set of handcuffs). His eyes traveled to Shilo's door and a wicked grin spread across his face as he turned back to Nathan. "You dirty fuck, you. When'd you put that peephole in the door? You know what this means?"

Nathan just stared at him, dumbfounded.

"It means we can watch her having 'special alone time', maybe have some of our own while we do it," Repo informed him with a sly smirk.

"Dad?" Confusion, concern. "Are you still out there?"

Nathan shook himself out of his stunned silence. "Yes. We'll talk more later, precious, right now there's an emergency at work and I've got to go in."

"Okay." A pause. "Love you, Dad."

He laid his hand gently on the door. "I love you too, precious."

The Repo man clasped his hands over his heart and sniffled. "It's so beautiful, man." He laughed.

Nathan shot him an annoyed look before turning to leave.

"And Dad?"

He turned back to the door. "Yes?"

"Try not to have any more accidents, okay?"

He laughed breathily. "I'll do my best."

Repo trailing him like a second shadow, Nathan headed back into his bedroom and started rummaging through his wardrobe. He pulled out a white button-down shirt and a pinstriped vest and matching slacks and tossed them onto the bed. His double eyed his clothes before following him into the bathroom.

"Don't you own any, I dunno, jeans or something?" Repo asked.

Nathan, back at the mirror and ignoring him, looked in disgust at the streaks of almost-dry blood trailing down from his shoulder and matting his chest hair before gently probing the cut. The swollen, purpling flesh throbbed in pain as he touched it, making him suck in a hissing breath. Fresh blood oozed sluggishly from the gash.

"Damn it," Nathan growled as he put his glasses on the sink, shooting Repo an angry glance. "Why'd you have to bite me so damn hard?"

The Repo man chuckled and snapped his jaws shut with a clack. "Can't help it; it's the animal in me. Don't know why you're bitching," he said, coming up behind the other man and giving his wound a lick. "You liked it. Oh, don't glower at me like that. Besides, look…"

He unhooked and peeled off his left glove before holding up his hand up so Nathan could the back of it. The second knuckles and middle phalanxes of all four fingers were bruised. Repo grabbed Nathan's hand and held it up as well, identical bruising on his digits.

"Shoulder and hip hurt like hell too," he continued, pulling his glove back on and taking a few steps away from the sink.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so rough then," Nathan said, shaking his head as he turned the shower back on.

"What else am I supposed to be?" He flicked his eyes from Nathan to the tub and back. "Another shower? Fuck, are you OCD or something?"

"Well, I can't just stroll into Rotti's office reeking of sex, can I?" Nathan spat as he tested the water temperature.

Finding it to his liking, he peeled off his trousers and moved to step into the tub. A twitching sensation ran up his spine, stopping him mid-motion. He turned and found the Repo man watching him.

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all," the doppelganger replied, shaking his head before grinning mischievously.

"You're such an asshole," Nathan snapped.

Repo sniggered. "Oh look, you've found something new to call me."

"Shut up. And don't look at me."

His double folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow. "So let me get this straight: I can fuck you, but I can't watch you shower..?"

"No. Yes. I don't know," Nathan stammered, flustered. "Just, turn around."

Repo rolled his eyes and did so, arms still folded. Nathan eyed his other half for a moment, then stepped into the shower, suddenly wishing he had a curtain that wasn't clear plastic. Lead, perhaps.

Soaping up his hair, he could hear the other man fidgeting and shifting, a booted toe impatiently tapping the tile.

"You should let me join you," the Repo man said over his shoulder.

"What?" Nathan spluttered. "No, you're not thinking –"

"Hell yeah I am," Repo growled. "C'mon, one for the road. What's it gonna hurt?"

"Me; it'll hurt me. Call me crazy, but I'd kind of like to see daylight without any more bruises," Nathan stated dryly. "And I thought you said you weren't insatiable."

Repo chuckled. "We were talking about bloodlust when I said that. Now, when it comes to just plain old, regular lust…" He chuckled again, a wicked note in it this time.

Nathan just shook his head and rinsed the suds off his skin, glad to be rid of the stinging at his shoulder. Killing the stream, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist, shaking water from his hair. He patted his shoulder dry and taped a square of gauze over the bite-which clearly wasn't bad enough to need stitches-then brushed past the Repo man and quickly dressed.

"What _is_ with the old man clothes?" Repo queried, leaned against the doorjamb again.

The other man didn't answer. He simply headed out the door and proceeded to go down the stairs, through the secret passage behind the fireplace, and into his secret lab, the dark thing a step or two behind him the whole way. Repo watched as Nathan bustled around, taking inventory and gathering up the things he needed, completely disregarding his double.

"Bitch, I ain't you're girlfriend, don't ignore me. I asked you a fucking question," the Repo man snarled.

Nathan paused, cryo-bag in hand, and looked at his dark half in confusion. Then the light bulb came on.

"They're not old man clothes, they're nice, respectable," he said, setting the bag on the worktable beneath the myriad of hanging knives. "What the hell did you do with my gloves?"

"Well your hair is pretty too," Repo said with a sneer at the change in topic. "They're in your bag, the big leather one."

"I trust you put the knockoffs in the fridge," Nathan called as he went to retrieve his gloves.

"No, I just left them out to rot," Repo retorted sarcastically. "Of course I put them away. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well," Nathan stated as he returned, gloves and organs in hand. "considering you didn't rinse off my coat when you came back... I'm going to have to scrub it later."

"We were tired," Repo growled in defense.

Nathan, having set the items in his hands on the table, turned to the Repo man and folded his arms, an eyebrow raised as he looked at the other with mild irritation.

"You could have at least hung it up in the wash room instead of just dropping in the entrance."

"What are you, my mother?"

"No, I –"

"No, I got it," Repo said, cutting him off. "You're my wife."

"And how did you come up with that?" Nathan snapped, his irritation growing.

"Well," Repo began, ticking off the points on his fingers as he talked. "You whine like a woman, you bitch at me constantly, you try to control everything I do, and you deny me sex most of the time. Sounds like a wife to me."

"Never mind the fact that I'm a man…"

"Are you so sure of that? After what I did to you upstairs?"

Nathan just stared at the Repo man, then turned away and pulled on the shoulder-length gloves, clipping them to the shoulders of his vest. Sitting on a stainless wheeled stool, he scootched up to the worktable, pulled the knockoff organs out of the clear plastic bag, and began inspecting them. The chill emanating from the damp flesh and penetrating his gloves was eerie. He was used to handling organs while they were still warm.

"I'll give you a warm organ to handle," the Repo man growled suggestively, seating himself on the table to Nathan's left.

Nathan didn't even look at him as he pulled an arm-mounted magnifying glass into use.

"Not talking to me any more?"

"Not while the only thing spewing from your mouth is cruelty," Nathan stated simply, not looking up from his work.

"Aw, come on," Repo said, nudging the other's shoulder and making him wince. "It's what I am. It'd be like expecting you to cease the angst."

No response. Repo watched him a moment more, then pulled one of the hanging knives down and began playing with it absentmindedly.

"You don't have to do that, you know," he said, turning the long, curved knife 'round in his hand.

"And why is that?" Nathan asked, still focused on the cold organs. "You want me to go into Rotti's office not knowing a damn thing about these, ill-gotten gains?"

"It just seems a bit redundant," Repo stated, "considering I've already analyzed them."

Halting his examination, Nathan slowly turned to his double. Repo didn't meet his gaze; he simply continued toying with the knife.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Nathan questioned.

"You didn't ask," Repo replied with a shrug.

Nathan blinked. "Well?" he drawled after a moment of no response.

Quick as lightning, Repo dropped the knife and grabbed the other man 'round the jaw. He turned to him and leaned in close, hot breath washing over his face.

"Really, I should make you beg after the way you talked to me," he snarled, eyes glinting dangerously. He leered at Nathan for a moment, then let him go and pulled back, a wicked smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe later."

Nathan, fear slowly trickling out of his system, rubbed his sore jaw, smearing cold blood on himself. He looked down at his hand and realized what he'd done.

"Damn it, I just took a shower. Again." He sighed and shook his head. "Now, about these organs…"

"You're awful demanding, you know that?" Repo stated with a sneer before continuing. "They're real shoddy work. Internal structures are cheap bio-plastic that's more plastic than bio, covered in a synthetic skin that doesn't do much besides look nice. Honestly, I don't know how they can even work considering what they're made of, and I doubt they'd last a year. I guess you get what you pay for, right?"

Nathan grunted an affirmative as Repo picked up the liver and studied the words tattooed on it.

"This is hand-done," he continued, holding the organ under the magnifying glass where Nathan could see it. "Not like GeneCo. Frankly, I don't think it's even a real barcode; it's just for show."

"And that's important because..?"

"Not entirely sure, just an observation. Could mean we're dealing with a small operation, could mean whoever's running this thing is a bad businessman." He shrugged. "Could mean something else altogether."

"Well that's helpful."

"Hey, you asked, I told you what I know. Saved you time and energy, didn't I?"

"I suppose," Nathan said, stuffing the organs back into the plastic, then into the cryo-bag.

He latched the clasps on the bag and removed his gloves, careful not to get blood on his vest. Holding the gloves by their clips, he pushed back from the table with a metallic squeal and proceeded to take them into the tiled wash room, attaching them to the hanging chain. Nathan gave the empty hook for his coat an annoyed look before moving over to the sink and washing the fresh blood off his face. Repo stayed where he was, drumming a discordant tune out on the tabletop.

"Would you stop that racket?" Nathan grumbled, wiping the last drops of water off of his skin.

"Why?" Repo asked as the other man swept past him, snagging the cryo-bag on the way by. "It's not like your precious little girl can hear me. Although she's not quite so little anymore..."

"That's not the point," Nathan said as he stalked back from the exit tunnel, bloodstained coat in hand. "You're working my nerves."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," the Repo man growled as Nathan hung the coat up.

Sliding off the table, Repo followed the other as he stormed out through the tunnel. Only a single set of footfalls echoed off the amber-lighted stone as they silently made their way through the passage.

With a screech and a clang, Nathan swung the heavy iron door at the other end of the tunnel open and poked his head out, taking a cautious look around the dark alleyway, which was located about halfway between the GeneCo skyscraper and the graveyard. Everything was damp and the air still smelled of rain from earlier.

He listened intently. Silence. Warily, making sure he shut and locked the door behind him, he slipped off into the still humid night, moving toward the advertisement-lit tower with the silent step perfected over years of practice.

He'd made it into the building, all the way through the lobby-surprisingly populated considering the time-and into the elevator when:

"Don't these people fucking sleep?"

Nathan sighed, disappointed, as the elevator doors slid shut. He hazarded a glance to his right. The Repo man, leaned against the red wall, was watching him with a bored look on his face.

"God, I was hoping you'd disappeared," Nathan sighed as he punched the button for Rotti's office.

Repo chuckled. "You can't get rid of me that easily. Besides, how could I resist a night out?"

Before the elevator could start to move, the doors slid back open, startling both of them. Repo recovered first and wolf-whistled.

"Well, well, well, lookit what we got here," he growled lustily.

Amber Sweet, dressed in little more than a short, strapless midnight blue dress and matching boots that ended just above her knee, strutted into the lift. Nathan, unable to keep from staring, pressed himself against the back of the elevator as Amber pushed the button for her floor, the cold from the window seeping through his shirt and vest. As the lift started to rumble upward, Repo shot the other man a look.

"You're pathetic," he said, shaking his head. "Practically eye-raping the boss's daughter but too scared to do anything. Pussy."

Nathan just glared at his double. What else could he do? Anything else would make him seem like a madman (which he suspected wasn't too far from the truth).

Two floors up, the elevator stopped and a Gentern stepped in. The Repo man grinned toothily.

"Hell yeah, this is starting to look like the beginning of a great party, " he growled, slinking up behind Amber and sniffing her. He looked at Nathan over his shoulder. "You know what you should do? Pull the emergency stop and start nailing these bitches."

_Why? Why do I have to be stuck in this motorized, steel death-trap with that brash, crude, ridiculously horny bastard?_ Nathan silently asked whoever might be listening.

"Quit whining. You fucking love me and you know it," the Repo man snarled, unfortunately for Nathan being the only one who heard him. At the next floor the Gentern got out. "Aw, dammit I told you to hit the emergency stop."

"Going up to Daddy's office, Mr. Wallace?" the remaining young woman asked Nathan, startling him and making him drop the cryo-bag.

"Y-yes," he stumbled.

"Isn't it awfully late to be out and about?"

He laughed softly. "I go where I'm needed, when I'm needed."

Repo rolled his eyes. "You come when you're called is more like it… You really should get over here. She smells wonderful, like-" He inhaled deeply, eyes closed and looking for all the world like a wine connoisseur with a fabulous vintage. "-low self-esteem, daddy issues, and a touch of shame... Mmm, delicious." He looked back at Nathan. "You should come have a taste."

Nathan swallowed thickly and shifted in discomfort.

"Oh, don't be such a wuss. Get over here."

He found himself hesitantly taking the few steps to close the gap between them, Repo circling 'round in front of Amber as he did so. Heart thundering, Nathan stopped practically right on top of her and forced his hands to unclench before giving his dark half a nervous look. The Repo man raised his eyebrows and tilted his head toward the young woman as if to say, "Go on." Nervously, Nathan slid his hands onto her hips.

Amber spun and slapped him, hard enough to snap his head to the side, luckily for him catching him in the un-bruised side of his face. Nathan froze. Ice crept into his veins and he rolled his eyes toward the young woman, who shrank back against the side of the elevator.

Face stinging and teeth bared, Nathan stalked predatorily over to Amber and slammed his hands on the wall on either side of her head. He leered at her for a minute, his eyes cold and reflection-less behind his glasses, then kissed her savagely, his mouth crushing hers. His sudden, aggressive move caught both of them by surprise, yet neither of them did anything to break the kiss. After a long moment, he pulled away. Head down, eyes closed, and breathing heavily, he fought to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't ha–"

He was cut off when she pulled him in for another kiss, hooking a leg over his hip as she did so. Caught off guard momentarily, he eventually returned the kiss, not as harsh as before but still aggressive, his firm tongue snaking into her mouth and laying claim to it. He growled and ground his hips against her. Goddamn, but it felt good to be in control for once, to have this woman trapped between the wall and a hard place.

His left hand slid to the nape of her neck, his right somehow finding its way onto the knee at his hip as he pressed himself flush against her. Nathan kissed and licked along the side of her neck as his hand slid up over her boot and trailed lightly across the bare skin above it. Hesitating for only an instant at the hem of her dress, his fingers slipped under the fabric, creeping higher, higher and finding... only more flesh. Oh God. He groaned against her skin and his hand flew to the closure of his trousers, fumbling with his belt buckle, fighting to free himself before –

Someone cleared their throat. "Miss Sweet?" asked a voice to their left.

Repo let loose a string of curses that would have shocked a foul-mouthed sailor, some of which Nathan was pretty sure he made up on the spot. Amber pushed the older man away, smoothed everything back into place, and strutted out after the Surgen as if nothing had happened. His jaw practically on the floor, Nathan watched her go as the doors slid shut and the elevator continued upward. Still stunned by the abruptness with which everything had ended, he made a quick readjustment to his uncomfortable groin and did his best to make himself look decent.

"I fucking told you to stop the elevator," the Repo man growled in annoyance, coming up beside his other half and resting his elbow on his uninjured shoulder.

"Why didn't you do it?" Nathan asked, still staring at the doors.

"Because I'm not fucking real. Not physically, anyway..."

"Oh," Nathan said simply, still reeling from his encounter with Amber. "I, I can't believe I did that. It's not like me..."

"Well," Repo smirked, "you may have had a little encouragement. Fuck yes, I've got your attention now, and I'm gettin' all the sex I can, while I can." He looked his other half up and down. "You know you coulda got that girl to do anything you wanted, right?"

Nathan had a sudden image of himself forcing Amber to her knees, his hand at his zipper–

He shook the thoughts from his head and looked at the Repo man, suddenly realizing it was the first time he'd seen him in a while. Repo gave him a lopsided grin.

"Shows how observant you aren't," he said.

"And like you are?"

"Hell yeah, I am. I see everything you don't notice, everything you ignore."

"Well if you're so perceptive why didn't you warn me that Shilo was headed for the bathroom earlier? Could have spared me that bit of awkwardness…"

"In case you didn't notice, I was a bit busy at that particular moment in time. I didn't even know she was there 'til she was at the door." He licked Nathan's ear. "Besides, you wouldn't have wanted me to stop even if I had realized what was gonna happen."

"Right. I just _loved_ every minute of that," Nathan drawled sarcastically.

"Damn right you loved every minute of that," Repo snarled quietly.

Nathan didn't reply as they hurtled upward toward Rotti Largo's office.

**A/N: Ugh, sorry it's so long... My chapters seem to be growing in length as I write...**

**Is it wrong that I love the Repo man's arrogance so much? And his smart-ass-ness? (Yeah, I just used 2 hyphens in a row...) Oh, and the whole "Your hair is pretty too" line? Comes from my friends... When they want to change the subject they say something along the lines of "Well your hair is pretty" so...**

**Last time's music reference was from "Cat People (Putting Out Fire)" by David Bowie... Where the Repo man says "It's been so long...Like...putting out fire with gasoline"? Yep. Hell yes I love that song... Big delicious primal drums at the beginning... :D This time will probably be a bitch to figure out, even though I drop the title... Okay, so I may be cheating a bit, considering it's not a real song... But it's the title track to this porn star's album in a movie I saw... (Does that make sense?) Ugh, I don't care... I seem to be playing this game with myself, but I don't care. Speaking of music, I love the idea of Kid Rock's "So Hott" playing in Repo's head as Amber walks into the elevator. Particularly the last couple lines of the chorus... Gah, is that a deliciously filthy song.**


	4. One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

_Gah, I'm sorry it's been so long since I've uploaded... Total f'ing chaos in my house. And I figured I should probably give y'all a heads up... Poor Nathan gets abused... A lot... And ends up in a collar at one point so... Yeah..._

Nathan wiped his sweating palms on his slacks and picked up his cryo-bag as the elevator rattled to a halt. Nerves stretched almost to the breaking point, he stepped into the dismal, sparsely furnished office and approached the desk, the large man behind it glaring at him as he walked. The giant video screen that covered most of the back wall was covered; Rotti's henchgirls were at their posts in front of it, one on either side of the boss, and his sons were in their usual chairs, with a small, twitchy-looking man seated on the couch between them. Fidgety, glassy-eyed, and dressed like he slapped on the first things he grabbed out of a Goodwill box, he looked like he was pulled off the streets right outside of a Zydrate addicts support group.

Nathan stopped in front of the desk and looked at his shoes.

"You know," Repo said, sinking onto the couch next to the man and lounging comfortably. "If you hadn't of made that mess on the sink earlier-which you didn't clean up, by the way; thankfully it's a white sink-right now I'd be wondering if you even _had_ a pair of balls."

Nathan shot his double a furtive glare. Rotti looked from him to the stranger and tilted his head toward his employee.

"This him?" he asked.

The street dweller squinted at Nathan, then nodded, twitching. "Yeah, yeah das him. Aw man, you shoulda seen it when he took this guy out. That was some scary shit, man."

"You're sure it's the same man you saw?"

The man nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah yeah yeah, das him. He didn't have no kinda mask or nuthin' on. Man, it was crazy, he was all like 'rar'-" He made a fierce stabbing motion. "-and den there was blood and stuff everywhere. Like, everywhere."

"I got it," Rotti said flatly. He turned to his eldest son, then flicked his eyes to the man and back. "Take care of that, would you?"

Standing, Luigi scowled down at the man and jerked his head toward the elevator. The fidgety man, perhaps expecting a reward, scrambled eagerly to his feet and scurried toward the doors, the Largo boy shadowing him. Nathan watched them out of the corner of his eye. The glassy-eyed man grinned up at the other, who returned the look with something akin to a sneer.

There was a flash of steel as the elevator slid open, followed by a spray of crimson. The street dweller looked at the other man in confusion as his hands traveled to his rent throat, a pathetic gargling sound escaping him. Luigi shoved the dying man into the elevator, knocking him to the floor, then reached in and hit one of the buttons. The doors slid silently shut as he returned to the others, glaring at his bloody shirt the whole way.

"What's-a the matter?" Pavi taunted. "Did you get something on-a your shirt?"

Luigi scowled at his younger brother. "You fucking know I did. Fuck, I just put on this fucking shirt."

"Maybe you should find a less messy way to kill people," the other Largo boy said, turning to his mirror.

"And maybe you should just shut the fuck up before I fucking stab you!" Luigi spat and waved his knife, sending blood-droplets everywhere.

The Repo man laughed. "Fuck, I love that kid, he kills me."

"Enough, children," Rotti snapped, glowering at his sons, who seemed to shrink under their father's sharp glare.

Repo looked the eldest Largo offspring up and down. "Well? Tear your fucking shirt off already, damn."

Luigi, obviously unable to hear the dark thing lounging on the couch, wiped the blade on a clean part of his shirt, scowling at everyone, particularly Nathan, who, still looking at his shoes, shifted uncomfortably, caught between the glares of two angry Largos. The awkward silence was heavy, oppressive. Well, the almost-silence.

"You know, if you had a spine," Repo began, resting his chin on his palm, "that boy right there wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you. You should let me take over, drag him home… Mmm, do you know how much fun we could have with him, the games we could play?"

Nathan didn't even bother trying to reply; he'd just leave the Repo man to his infinitely perverted thoughts. No one moved or spoke for several long moments, waiting for Rotti to speak, to tell them what to do, what he wanted. Repo pulled himself from his delightfully dirty thoughts and looked around at the eerily silent room. "The fuck is going on here? What the hell is he waiting for?"

Nathan shrugged, a barely visible twitch of his shoulders, but it was enough for his other half to understand. Behind them, the lift rattled back open, startling almost everyone, and they all turned to look at it. The elevator was empty: no body, no blood, no evidence at all of the violence that had transpired. GeneCo's clean-up crews did their job well.

"All of you out," Rotti barked. "Everyone. Except you." He pointed a thick finger at Nathan.

"Bu—"

The master of GeneCo slammed his fist on the desk. "Don't you back-talk me. OUT!"

Completely cowed, his boys slunk to the elevator, sending furtive wounded glances at their father. Rotti just glowered, then looked back at his bodyguards.

"I said everyone," he snarled.

The two nearly-identical women exchanged glances. One raised an eyebrow, the other shrugged. It didn't do any good to go against the boss's wishes. Making their way across the office in unison, they joined the Largo boys in the elevator. Slowly, the doors closed and the lift rumbled downward.

Rotti turned his baleful glare to Nathan. Everything inside him shriveled and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," Nathan stammered.

"You're, sorry?" Acid dripped from every syllable. Rotti pointed at the floor just to the left of his chair. "Here. **Now**."

Setting the bag on the desk, Nathan slowly circled around to the point he was told. His feet felt like lead and his stomach was in knots.

"On your knees," Rotti snarled without looking at him.

"Yes, bitch," the Repo man called from the couch. "On your knees. And you might want to, ah, loosen and warm up your jaw…"

Nathan shot his dark half a sly, angry look as he complied with Rotti's command.

"Do you know what it's like," the older man began, going through paperwork as he talked, "to receive a call from your daughter while she's visiting one of her support groups, saying that there's some man regaling everyone with the story of how he saw a Repo man with no mask?"

"Sir, I –"

The back of a meaty hand struck him in the bruised side of his face, sending pain rushing through him. The Repo man sucked in a pained hiss.

"I'm not finished," Rotti barked, returning to his paperwork.

"Don't you just hate it when someone won't let you finish?" Repo said with a smirk, rubbing the smarting side of his face.

"Now," the older man continued, "I could have just brushed it off as the drug-induced ramblings of a Zydrate addict. I _should_ have been able to dismiss the whole thing, because I know that my Repo men know better. And yet this, junkie, just so happened to describe you to a tee, too well for it to be just a coincidence. But even then part of me said, 'No, it couldn't be Nathan Wallace. He's been at this too long; he wouldn't, couldn't fuck up that badly'."

"Please, sir I can exp—"

Rotti spun quickly to Nathan and slapped him. Hard. The blow knocked him to the side, breaking open the cut inside his cheek and splitting his lip, filling his mouth with the coppery taste of blood. His glasses clattered to the floor as he caught himself and straightened, wiping the blood dripping from his mouth with the back of his hand as he did so. He kept his gaze on the floor.

"I did not say you could speak, Nathan. You can explain all you want but it won't change the fact of what you did. The damage is done and –" He grabbed Nathan's jaw and tilted his head up. "You will look at me when I'm talking to you."

His mouth dry, Nathan swallowed nervously, his hands white-knuckled where they rested on his thighs. Rotti turned the younger man's face side-to-side, studying it. Anger creased his own as his eyes landed on the purple bruise on Nathan's cheek. Something else was there, barely visible beneath the anger, something Nathan couldn't quite put his finger on.

"It's jealousy," Repo stated, spitting blood. He chuckled. "Didn't that boy know that your master's the only one allowed to fuck up you're pretty face?"

Rotti let go of the other man and leaned back in his chair.

"Damn it, Nathan, I am trying to run a business here. Part of that business is fear. When you put on that coat," he said, pointing vaguely and inadvertently directly at the Repo man, "you're not a man anymore. You're something inhuman and unstoppable, a faceless nightmare stalking the streets, a force that cannot be reckoned with. Tell me, how are we supposed to keep the vulgar masses in check, make sure they keep making their payments, when there's, trash, spreading stories of how it saw a Repo man's face and lived to tell the tale, humanizing you, making them think that maybe they can take on a Repo man and keep breathing, that they can keep _my_ property in their grubby little bodies without fully paying for it?"

Exasperated, the patriarch of the Largo family closed his eyes and massaged one of his temples. Nathan waited in silence, unsure if he was supposed to come up with an answer or not. It didn't surprise him that Rotti was more concerned about his bottom-line than his employee's safety. Not that many would be stupid enough to try and tangle with a GeneCo employee, especially since the law was on Rotti's side (not to mention the fact that he practically owned the police force), but there always was the risk that someone could get brave and follow him home or pull a gun on him. And leather is not bulletproof.

With a tired sigh, Rotti opened his eyes and looked down at Nathan.

"And as if all of this wasn't bad enough, you left someone else to tie up your loose ends," he stated.

"Hey, don't you get pissy with me," Repo snarled, feeling Nathan's anger at him rise. "I didn't know the motherfucker was there, okay? I'm not as perceptive when I'm the one running the show, and you wouldn't believe how quietly them bastards can move."

"Do you have any idea how long it took to find that slime? My men were out searching for hours-time and money that should have been put to better use-chasing second- and third-hand information gained from vermin so strung-out they wouldn't even recognize their own hand if it was in front of their face. Thanks to you I haven't slept at all tonight, and I couldn't even enjoy the opera earlier."

With an angry snarl, he lashed out with his left hand, the fist catching Nathan in his right eye and knocking him off balance. He fought the urge to clap a hand over the injured orb and choked down a pained cry. The Repo man, on the other hand…

"Son of a motherfucking bitch!" he roared, clutching the rapidly swelling flesh. "The fuck is his problem? Just fucking hits us outta nowhere!"

"How dare you," Rotti growled, seething. "How dare you have the audacity to leave your mess for me to clean up."

He grabbed Nathan's throat.

"Don't tell me you forget your place?"

Wiping his sweating palms on his pants, Nathan quietly shook his head "no".

"And where is your place?"

"At your feet, sir," Nathan wheezed.

A small, pleased smile crossed Rotti's face and he patted Nathan's cheek.

"Good boy." His eyes went to the cryo-bag and he turned to his desk. "Let's see what you've brought me, shall we?"

Pulling the bag over to him, he extracted the organs and studied them through the plastic. After a moment, his brow furrowed and a sneer curled his lip.

"What the hell is this?" he snarled quietly. "Some kind of joke?"

"N-no, sir, those were in the target I processed earlier," Nathan stammered.

"Which account?"

"I, uh, I don't know, sir."

"Wrong answer," Repo said in an almost singsong voice as Rotti turned to his employee.

"I'm sorry," the older man said, dangerously quiet. "I thought I just heard you say you didn't know. It shouldn't be that hard, Nathan, you only had two assignments tonight and…" He trailed off, realization dawning on him. His eyes went from the knockoff organs to Nathan. "Where did these come from?"

Shakily, the injured man told him of the hunt and what he knew of the organs, fudging some of the details and leaving out any mention of the Repo man. Rotti listened in silence, thick hands tightly gripping the arms of his chair. Slowly, as the other man talked, he wrenched one hand away, took his cane from where it was leaned against the desk, and began tapping it on the floor next to his foot.

Growing quiet, Nathan fought to keep his gaze off the floor, one eye blurry and almost swollen shut.

"Finished?" Rotti asked, his cane slowing to a stop.

Nathan nodded almost imperceptibly. The cane became a blur as it crashed down on his injured shoulder, making him gasp in pain.

"That," Rotti snarled, "was for lying to me. And this –" The cane struck him in the left side of his neck "—is for taking someone out without my say-so."

"I-I'm sorry, sir," Nathan choked through the pain, clutching his shoulder.

"There you go telling me you're sorry again. There's something you're failing to realize here." He grabbed the younger man 'round the jaw again, thick fingers digging painfully into the skin. "Sorry. Doesn't. Cut it."

With an angry snarl, he shoved Nathan to the floor. Turning away, he started rifling through the bottom drawer on the far side of the desk. Nathan didn't move from where he was sprawled face-down on the floor, just closed his eyes and let the cold from the floor help soothe his blackening eye. He tasted blood even stronger than before.

"Nathan, Nathan, Nathan," came Rotti's voice, sounding disappointed. "I can't believe you lied to me, Nathan. Not just once, but several times. And here I thought you were a good boy, that you remembered who your master is."

He heard the drawer shut, followed by a faint, metallic jingle.

"It seems I have to re-teach you."

A rough kick caught Nathan in the side, knocking the wind out of him. Groaning, he tried to curl up, but strong hands grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him to his knees. Forcing his eyes open, he looked up at Rotti, who was standing over him with a scowl on his face and a collar and leash in his hands.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," snarled the Repo man, who was now seated on the desk. He looked down at Nathan. "And you call me a kinky bastard…"

"Clothes," the older man barked.

Nothing more was needed. Nathan knew this game well, though they had not played it for quite some time. His vest hit the floor as he started slowly undoing his shirt buttons. He wasn't entirely sure what purpose his nakedness served. Perhaps it was just another way for Rotti to exert his control over him, or an easy way to degrade him. Maybe he just liked ogling the other's unclothed flesh.

Shrugging his shirt off, Nathan took a quick glance at his shoulder. Red stained the strip of gauze on his skin; the wound must have broken back open when Rotti struck him. Belt, shoes, socks, all came off. Thick leather fastened around his neck, the other giving the leash a tug after securing the buckle. Rotti must have been either incredibly impatient or incredibly angry (most likely both); Nathan still had his pants on.

"Fuck, do you look good in a collar," Repo growled lustily, eyeing his other half. "Well, from what I can tell through this fucked up eye of mine. Thanks a fucking lot, you fat fucker!" he roared at Rotti.

"Do you see this?" the subject of Repo's rage asked, indicating the strip of leather attached to Nathan's collar.

Nathan nodded.

"Who's holding your leash?"

"You are, sir," Nathan mumbled.

"What? I didn't hear you," Rotti spat, giving the leash a hard yank that jerked Nathan forward.

"You are, sir," Nathan said much louder and through gritted teeth. The collar slamming against the welt on his neck was agony.

"That's right. _I_ am." He took a step closer to the kneeling man and grabbed his hair. "That means your chains are _mine_. You do what I tell you, when I tell you. Nothing more."

Gripping his hair tightly, Rotti pulled Nathan's head back, overextending his neck painfully. Nathan swallowed the pain and struggled to keep his eyes on the other as he leaned in close.

"You belong to me," Rotti snarled. "And do you remember why that is?"

Bile rose in Nathan's throat and his stomach twisted into knots of guilt and shame as the memories came flooding back. That night; that hellish, blood-soaked night and that, that, vile, thing he did. He closed his eyes as he felt his throat start to close up. Rotti's fingers tightened in his hair.

"Answer me, Nathan."

"Because I'm a monster."

The last word was echoed by a female voice inside his head.

_Marni._

"Oh hell no," he heard Repo snarl.

"That's right, Nathan, you're a monster, because what kind of man would have done what you did? You killed your wife, the mother of your child."

_**Nathan, how could you do that to me?**_ Marni accused. _**I thought you loved me.**_

_I did. I do,_ he pleaded.

"You never loved her," Rotti growled, eerily echoing the conversation in his head. "Not the way I did. Not the way she deserved..."

_**No you didn't. If you loved me you wouldn't have let me die.**_

**He did fucking love you, you stupid whore,** Repo snarled from inside Nathan's mind.** Still does, in fact. Can't for the life of me figure out why. And he did the fucking best he could to save your ass, so shut the fuck up about it.**

_**I'm not talking to you, brute,**_ Marni snapped. _**You should have paid more attention, Nathan. How could you have been so careless with your pregnant wife? Unless...**_

_No! I would never –_

"Why'd you do it, Nathan?" Rotti went on. "What? Did she say she was leaving? If you couldn't have her, no one could, is that it?"

He couldn't answer, partly due to the fact his throat felt swollen shut and partly because he didn't really know. Had some part of him, for some ungodly reason, intentionally grabbed the wrong bottle in order to create a fatal mixture? He could have sworn it was the right one, and even if it was the wrong one it shouldn't have... Hell, he didn't know anymore. Everything about that day was blurry up until the point Marni started bleeding. From then on it was all burned crystal-clear in his memory, from the first drops of blood to Marni's last gasping breath, Shilo's first cry to his last moment as a free man.

_**Monster. Brute. Beast.**_

Nathan clapped his forearms against his head and curled up as much as he could, his fingers digging into the back of his head. He just wanted it to stop, the accusations, the memories, the pain, all of it, but he knew it never would, knew it never should. He deserved to reside in this living hell, trapped in the never-ending torment, never allowed to forget that he should have been the one to die, not her, not her, his darling Marni.

_Murderer…_

He wasn't sure who it came from, Marni or Rotti, or perhaps himself. Maybe all three. Regardless of who said it, the word cut into him like a strand of razor wire wrapped around his throat. The wire tightened, making it hard to breath. He realized his face was damp. Was he crying?

Nathan's fingers tightened, short nails digging into his scalp. He didn't deserve to cry. Crying would make him feel better, if only for a little while. He was a beast; pain was all he should feel. Pain and –

A harsh pull on the leash brought Nathan out of his destructive spiral of self-loathing. He unfolded himself and looked up at Rotti. As his hands passed his face, he noticed that his nails and fingertips were red with blood.

"Are you paying attention?" Rotti snarled.

Nathan suddenly realized the other man had continued talking while he started dissolving into madness.

"Y-yes, sir," he stammered without thinking.

"Really?" The older man eyed him suspiciously. "What's your answer, then?"

"A-answer?"

"Yes," Rotti said, grabbing Nathan's jaw. "I asked you a simple question, you should have a simple answer. You _were_ paying attention, after all."

Nathan scoured his memory and found– nothing. He'd heard the other man speaking, but hadn't heard what he said. Chagrined, he looked away as much as he could with his face in the other's thick hand. Rotti sighed, disappointed.

"That's what I thought." He studied Nathan for a moment, then a wicked grin slowly spread across his face. "You know, I think I've got a better use for that lying mouth of yours."

Rotti stroked his thumb over Nathan's cheek and licked the tears off his hand as he started undoing his pants.

**You're not just gonna sit here and let him do this, are you?**

_I don't have a choice. I have to be a good boy._

**Oh, fuck that...**

"You really don't want to do that," Nathan heard himself snarl in a harsh voice as ice flooded his veins and something shoved his consciousness aside.

His zipper half undone, Rotti froze. "What did you just say to me?"

"I know damn well I didn't fucking stutter," the Repo man snapped through Nathan, earning them another hard smack.

"That," Rotti growled, "was a warning. Now, you'll keep your mouth shut 'til I tell you to open it."

Laughing, Repo wiped the fresh blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's funny how you think I'm your bitch." He suddenly grew serious. "I'm not. And I'll give _you_ a warning: put that dick in my mouth and you won't get it back."

"Are you insinuating –"

"I'm not insinuating a damn thing. I'm telling you flat out that if you put that stubby cock in my mouth, I'll bite the motherfucker off."

Repo caught the fist Rotti threw at him before the blow could land.

"You really have to stop doing that," he snarled as he stood, twisting the other man's arm as he did so. He shoved him back down into his chair.

_What are you doing?_ Nathan fairly shrieked, panicking at the rage that flared up in Rotti's eyes.

**I'm getting us some dignity back,**Repo replied. **God, can you smell the fear coming off of him? He's trying to hide it behind the anger but I can still fucking smell it. It's fucking delicious.**

"Nathan," Rotti began warningly.

"No, I've already told you I'm not your bitch," Repo spat.

The older man started to say something but was cut off by a punch to the jaw. Stunned, he stared at the Repo man, fear now flickering visibly behind the rage.

"Shut up, I'm not done. You're damn lucky I don't have my scalpel on me or I'd bury it in your fat fucking face."

Rotti rubbed his sore jaw, watching this new Nathan warily.

"It's ok, I get it," Repo went on. "Sometimes you just gotta slap a bitch, or choke a bitch, or sexually degrade a bitch, when they misbehave. But really, that whole 'you murdered your wife thing'? That shit got old years ago and I'm sick of hearing about it. Now, I would tell you to find something new to throw in his face but he's been such a –" He looked as if there was suddenly a foul taste in his mouth. "-good boy, over the years, jumping through whatever hoops you set in front of him, sitting _wherever_ you tell him, coming when he's called, or allowed…"

Giving his head a hard, bestial shake, he started pacing, like a untamed animal trapped in a too-small cage. His cold eyes flashed as he moved, a little crazy, a little wild, and fully dangerous.

"Now, don't get me wrong, he loves every minute of it, thrives on it."

He slammed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned over Rotti, teeth bared in a feral grimace.

"But not me." He leaned in close and continued quietly in Rotti's ear. "No, I'm out now, and I think you'll find me a very different animal from your little lapdog. I won't grovel, I won't do little tricks for you just because you fucking say so-" He tugged at the collar around his neck. "-and I won't play this game with you. So you'd better watch your ass, lest the tables turn and you find yourself on the other end of this leash." His voice grew quieter. "And believe you me, you will not find me a kind master."

Nathan felt the temperature drop twenty degrees as they pulled back, hands still on the chair. The two men eyed each other warily for a moment, like dogs circling right before a fight, then the Repo man abruptly turned and picked up their clothes and glasses before heading for the elevator.

"Nathan, where do you think you're going?" Rotti barked, sounding tough but not moving from his chair.

"Home," Repo called over his shoulder.

"I didn't say you could leave."

Chuckling darkly, Repo turned to the other as he reached the lift. "You act like I give a shit. Y'know, it's funny, I could have sworn we just went over this. You don't fucking own me. Truth be told, you don't even really own him. You try, but really-" He tapped his chest with one finger. "-I own him, and more completely than you ever could."

Behind him, the doors slid open and he stepped in backwards, never taking his eyes off Rotti. Repo gave the other man a small, taunting wave as the elevator closed and started downward.

_You're a fucking lunatic,_ Nathan said in disbelief.

"Oh yes. Out of the two of us _I'm_ the crazy one," Repo retorted, wrapping the glasses up in the shirt and vest.

_Right. Threatening and hitting the most powerful man in the world was a completely sane idea,_ Nathan spat sarcastically. _And you stole his collar..._

Repo looked down at the leash trailing over his bare chest. "Huh, I did take his collar, didn't I?" He grinned wickedly. "Well now, we could have some fun with this."

_How can you be thinking of sex right now? We should be panicking! God only knows what Rotti's planning on doing to me for what you did in there!_

"Quit judging me, you bastard. I can't help it that I'm stuck with all of your repressed lust," he growled. "And calm the fuck down, you're tensing us up. The last thing we need is muscle aches on top of everything else."

As the elevator rumbled to a halt, Repo pulled himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. He may have been bruised, bloody, and sore (not to mention topless and collared) but he would walk out with some dignity, dammit. Ignoring the stares from the people still milling about in the lobby, he made his way to the doors and peered out. It had started raining again while they were up in Rotti's office and was coming down in buckets.

He stepped into the torrent, turning his face to the sky and delighting in the downpour despite some protestation from his contusions. Lightning lit the dark sky and thunder crashed deafeningly right above. A thrill ran up his spine, making him grin broadly. He loved thunderstorms: they were power, raw, unadulterated, primal power. He pulled a hand down his face, wincing as he did so.

"So much for you seeing daylight without any more bruises," Repo said with a quiet laugh as he moved off through the dark, empty streets.

_I noticed,_ Nathan commented dryly.

They'd gone several blocks in silence when the Repo man spoke again.

"So, do you think we'll still have to hunt for your lord, bringing him his crimson and gold?" he asked.

_I don't think Rotti will let me out of my contract,_ Nathan replied, once he understood the question.

A bang, screech, squeal, clang, and they were out of the rain.

"True. He's so possessive, not to mention a total bastard. He'd probably give ice to someone who was cold and had asked for something to warm up with."

Through the lab and the fireplace, up the stairs, and into his bedroom, water dripping off of him and leaving a tell-tale trail through the house.

_I don't know about that. He _did_ save me from jail._

Repo snorted as he tossed the damp bundle of clothes on the floor, having first set the glasses on the side table.

"I doubt that was out of the goodness of his heart," he said, going into the bathroom and changing the dirty gauze on his shoulder. "He did make you his bitch."

_Still..._

He peeled off the collar and dropped it on the back of the sink before studying himself in the mirror with a sneer. The left side of his face was bruised even worse, his right eye swollen almost shut and starting to purple, the cut on his lip just beginning to crust over. There were angry-looking red marks on his jaw from Rotti's fingers and a welt on the side of his neck. Gently, he touched the mark on his neck. The skin was still raised and hot to the touch.

"Fucked us up good, didn't he?" Repo asked, lifting his left arm and looking at his side.

_Yeah,_ Nathan said with a faint hiss as fingers probed the tender flesh over his ribs.

"Of course, that little episode you had didn't help," Repo growled, rubbing the back of his head lightly. He looked at his other hand. "At least the rain washed most of the blood away. Last thing we need is another fucking shower."

_I'm, sorry?_ Nathan offered. _Um, can I, uh, have control back now? We _are_ home…_

Repo, still looking at his reflection, raised an eyebrow curiously, then gave his other half a wicked grin. Bare feet padding silently on the floor, he slipped out of the bathroom and slunk down the hall.

_What are you doing?_ Nathan asked, panic rising.

The Repo man didn't answer as he slid into Shilo's room, the door slowly swinging shut behind him.

**A/N: Oh, Nathan, you poor, poor bastard... **

**I know, I probably fucked up Pavi's speech patterns... If they weren't so fucking weird... *shrugs* I did the best I could... Ach, I might have fucked up this whole chapter**

**So, on to the musics from last time... Remember when the Repo man said that "teenage horniness is not a crime"? Yeah, that came from a movie called Southland Tales. This chick in it is a porn star trying to make it into the mainstream and she makes an album called "Teenage Horniness is Not a Crime"... It just popped into my head when I was writing... As for this edition's, well, I actually reference two things. I stole lines from another musical and kinda rewrote some lyrics from a song so... Yeah...**

**Oh yeah, while I'm thinking about it. I want to thank everyone for their kind words. I'm not anti-social, just stupid shy... *hangs head in shame* Gah, when I started writing this I never expected anyone to read it, let alone how many people have (and are enjoying)... So, seriously, many thanks. :D**


	5. A Bit of Role Reversal

_FFFF- Sorry it took so long to get this done... Blasted thing fought me like crazy... I hope it came out ok, I took a bit of a departure from what I'm used to doing..._

"Well, isn't this a precious little tableau?"

Nathan awoke at the sound and gradually came back to consciousness, his senses slowly clicking back on one by one. Dull pain was the first thing to greet him, coming from all over but particularly strong in his left shoulder and the left side of his face. The air was still, quiet save for the sounds of gentle breathing, and smelled faintly of ozone and strong cleaning chemicals. There was a soft, smaller body in his arms and pressed against him, long hair brushing gently against his bare chest. He groaned quietly. Oh, how he ached, so much so that he didn't want to wake up, wanted to just lie there in a blissful half-awake state with Shilo in his arms and –

Shilo?

His eyes snapped open. Well, one of them did, the other oozed partway-open slowly. A mess of long black hair, the clear plastic curtain around the bed, and the room beyond that all confirmed it: he was lying, half-naked, curled around his daughter in her bed. Dread rose in him. What had he done? He hadn't – No, he didn't do _that_, did he?

"Of course you didn't do _that_," he heard the Repo man drawl.

Shifting a little, Nathan could see his doppelganger seated backwards in a chair right next to the bed, elbow resting on the back and his chin propped up on his palm. There was an amused look on the leather-clad man's face.

"I mean, really. The two of you, getting it on, off-screen where no one can see? Good God, I can hear the lynch mobs forming now." Repo shook his head. "Your memory must be as shitty as your judgment and your powers of observation. Unfortunately, all we did was cuddle up with your girl and pass out."

Relief flooded Nathan and with a soft sigh he slid back into his previous position, taking care not to disturb Shilo. He closed his eyes and tucked his face against her shoulders to block out the light streaming through the windows, faint though it was, and started drifting toward sleep, his mind floating freely…

**His mouth was on the girl's neck, nibbling gently, far more so than he would have been with anyone else. He had to be gentle; the pale skin under his teeth was delicate and he didn't want to hurt her, although he did suddenly wonder what her blood would taste like. Would there be a chemical flavor from her "medicine"? Maybe he'd find out. With a quiet snarl, he gave her a slightly harder bite followed by a slow lick.**

**Breathing a bit faster now, she shifted a little against him, unintentionally grinding her rump against his erection. He stifled a groan and grinned. Good, she was awake, or at least partly so. If she wasn't fully she soon would be. **

**Pulling the girl closer to him, he kissed the side of her neck as his hand slipped up under her nightgown and down into her pan—**

Nathan shook himself back fully awake and quickly located his hands. His left arm was still being used as a pillow by the both of them, his right still wrapped around Shilo's waist. Slowly, he shifted back to where he could see the Repo man and shot him an annoyed look.

"What?" the other asked, feigning innocence. A wicked smirk crossed his face. "Did you really think I'd let you just go to sleep with all that soft, warm flesh pressed against us?"

With a quiet sigh, knowing that he'd never make it back to sleep, Nathan resigned himself to wakefulness and carefully extracted his arm from underneath Shilo. He gave her a gentle kiss on the side of her neck that he realized too late was not exactly fatherly, then slid off the bed as quickly as he could without rousing his daughter. Rolling his stiff, sore shoulder, he gave her one final glance before slipping into the hall and walking to the bathroom, flexing the feeling back into the fingers of his left hand as he went. Upon reaching his destination, he emptied his poor strained bladder and washed his hands, keeping his eyes on them as he did so, avoiding the mirror. He'd seen more than enough of his battered flesh.

Returning to Shilo's room after pulling on a white t-shirt and grabbing his glasses, gently rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked, Nathan poked his head through the door and was surprised. His daughter was up and mostly dressed, seated on the edge of her bed. Repo was still in the chair and watching Shilo as she pulled on a stocking.

"Good morning, precious," he called softly as he swung her door all the way open.

She giggled quietly. "It's 1:30 in the afternoon," she informed him as she pulled on her other stocking. Repo leaned way over, trying to get a look up her skirt.

"Is it? I slept longer than I planned to then," he said, stepping into her room and wishing he had something to chuck at his other half's head. Like a brick.

Repo straightened and looked at Nathan, who was putting on his glasses. "You're just jealous that I can get away with it and you can't." He grinned broadly. "Although in all honesty I don't think she'd be too upset if you tried."

_Why are you such a pervert?_ he wanted to scream at his other half, which would have looked extremely crazy and probably would have terrified his daughter. Instead he simply asked, "Are you hungry, Shi?"

She shook her head. "I got something to eat earlier when you were still asleep," she said, resituating her wig, then laughed. "You know, I thought it was that kids curled up with their parents when they had a bad dream, not the other way around."

The small smile forming on Nathan's face crumbled as Shilo turned to him, shock and concern creasing her young face with unwelcome lines when she saw him.

"Oh, Dad," she said softly, voice mirroring the emotions on her face. "What happened?"

"Wh-what are you talking about, precious?" Nathan asked as he quickly covered the contusions on the left side of his face with a hand and turned slightly, hoping it would throw the right side into shadow.

"Don't try to lie to me, Dad. I knew you looked hurt earlier but I didn't realize just how bad it was in the dark. God, it looks like someone beat the crap out of you."

"Really, it's nothing you need to worry about," he tried to reassure her, warily watching as she came close to him.

"I think it is," Shilo said, trying to pull his hand away from his face. "C'mon, Dad, what happened?"

Nathan jerked his arm out of his daughter's grasp. "It's none of your concern," he bit out, sharper than he'd intended.

"Well, that was, uncalled for," Repo said, just as stunned as Shilo, who was looking at her father like he'd actually struck her.

"I'm so sorry, honey, I didn't mean to yell like that. I just don't want you to worry about me," Nathan pleaded, pulling the hand away from his face. He sighed quietly as he paused and gathered his thoughts. "It's no big deal. Some guys tried to mug me earlier, that's all. I got away with my wallet intact and made it home mostly in one piece." He sighed again and put his hand over his face again. "It's just that, you, you shouldn't see me like this."

The hurt on Shilo's face softened to understanding and she hugged him, arms around his waist and her head resting on his chest. Hesitantly, Nathan awkwardly returned the embrace, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and resting the other hand on her head.

"I get it," Shilo told him. "You have to be the big, strong daddy and protect me, but getting attacked made you feel weak and vulnerable. That and you think that me seeing you all beat to hell is going lower my opinion of you." She smiled up at her father, chin on his chest. "You and your fragile male ego, Dad, it's adorable. So you got your ass kicked. It could have happened to anyone. It doesn't make me think any less of you, and I know you'll always be there for me, doing the best you can."

Nathan felt an emotional warmth permeate his body, a mixture of love and pride that dulled the constant pain coming from his injuries. That was his Shilo, so sweet and smart (even if she wasn't entirely right; he hadn't been exactly truthful with her), so kind and understanding. Beaming, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of Shilo's face and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. Across the room, the Repo man let out a strangled, pained cry and fell to the floor, clutching his chest and thrashing about.

"Oh God!" he howled melodramatically, behaving like an attention-seeking child. "The diabeetus! It pains me!"

Nathan shot his dark half a swift, irritated look before returning his attention to Shilo. His brow furrowed. There was a smear of blood on her forehead, the red smudge glaringly obvious on her fair skin. He must have pulled the cut on his lip open when he smiled, clearly a bit too much.

"Oh, damn," he said, cleaning the blood off of her forehead. "I'm sorry, Shi."

"For what?" she asked as she took a small step back. "Oh! You're bleeding!"

Concerned, Shilo reached up and wiped the blood dripping from his mouth away. Nathan felt his pulse quicken as she touched his skin with light fingertips, lingering longer than she should have. She met her father's gaze and, flushing with embarrassment, snatched her hand back. Looking anywhere but at him, she shifted awkwardly.

"Well now," Repo said quietly, suddenly behind Nathan and at his ear. "That was very telling."

"Do you, uh, want something to eat?" Shilo asked, still uncomfortable.

Repo grinned like a hungry predator with easy prey in its sights. "Yes. You. Go on, take those panties off."

"Why do you ask?" Nathan queried, fighting the urge to elbow his doppelganger in the gut.

"Because right now _you're_ the one that needs to be taken care of," she replied, returning her gaze to him. "I'll be alright, I'm a big girl. You go sit down. I'll get you anything you want, whatever you need."

_-a naked, sweat-drenched Shilo beneath him, moaning and writhing in ecstasy as he-_

Nathan had to fight down the lust suddenly surging through him.

"Oh, hell yes," Repo growled. "That is _exactly_ what we need."

"Really, sweetheart, I'll be –"

"No," Shilo said firmly. She pointed commandingly back at the red loveseat in the corner of her room. "**Sit.**"

Choking down the urge to reply with a "yes, ma'am" and sit right where he was standing ("You whipped, subby bitch," Repo sneered), Nathan folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Now, is that any way to talk to your father, young lady?" he chided her, the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth belying his stern tone.

"Don't listen to him, kid. That's _exactly_ the way you should talk to him. He loves it," Repo told her, giving his other half's hair a firm yank. "Especially when you call him 'bitch'…"

Shilo simply folded her arms and stared right back. "It is when he's being stubborn."

Her father hung his head, seemingly chastised. "Ok, precious. I'll do it. For you."

She perked up and trotted to the door, Nathan watching her the whole way, then stopped and turned back as she reached it. Leaning against the doorframe, Shilo grinned at him.

"I almost forgot. Is there anything you want? Need?" she asked.

"My cock buried hilt-deep in you," Repo growled lustily, stalking slowly towards her. "Lady's choice as to where…"

"I think just some ice for my face," Nathan told his daughter, trying not to look at his other half, who was getting awfully close to her.

"Just some ice?" Shilo asked. "You sure you don't want anything to eat?"

Nathan shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"Well, not for food, anyways. No, we want," Repo said, giving his other half a toothy grin, "flesh, don't we? Just like in that fantasy. You know, little girl, I've got something for you to see and feel..."

_Shut up!_ Nathan snapped.

"Mouthy prick," Repo snarled with a sneer, startling Nathan a little.

Shilo's face fell a bit. "Okay. Just some ice then."

Almost reluctantly, she turned and headed for the kitchen. Nathan watched her go, only going to sit on the loveseat when she disappeared from sight. Sinking down onto the red couch, he leaned his head carefully against the back and closed his eyes, massaging his forehead with one hand. He felt the Repo man sit down next to him.

"So, how long do you think she'll be?" his dark half asked.

"Why?" Nathan replied.

In response, a hand slid onto his knee and started creeping up his thigh. Nathan groaned in annoyance and removed Repo's hand from his leg.

"Spoilsport," Repo grumbled, sounding like a child whose favorite toy was just taken away.

"I know, I'm being entirely unreasonable," Nathan returned sarcastically. "Isn't it bad enough Shilo walked in on us once already? I don't need her to find me seemingly masturbating in her room."

He felt a hot tongue flick against his ear, making him shiver a little.

"Nah, I don't think she'd mind," Repo whispered in his ear. "She'd probably wonder if you were thinking about her."

Nathan opened his eyes and slowly turned to look at Repo, flabbergasted. "Do you ever hear the things coming out of your mouth?"

"Every syllable," Repo replied with a quiet, predatory grin.

Rolling his eyes, Nathan shook his head and turned away from his dark half. Gloved fingertips on his jaw firmly turned his face back and held him there.

"She probably thinks about you when she does it."

"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about," Nathan said. "There really is something very wrong with you."

Repo trailed his fingertips over Nathan's jawline, grinning wickedly. "While I won't argue with you about that, I've seen the look in her eyes when you're around. That girl wants you."

He leaned in and gave Nathan's mouth a quick lick, keeping his face fractions of an inch away from the other's as he went on.

"Just like you want her. And you do want her, so badly it almost hurts sometimes. How many nights in the past year or so have you lain awake, thinking about it? You want to know what her alabaster skin would feel like under your hands, heaving and covered in sweat, what she tastes like, every… last… inch of her. You've imagined it more times than I can count: how hot and tight she would be, the way she would whimper and shiver and moan as you took her, would scream out 'Daddy' when she—"

Hearing Shilo reenter the room, Nathan snapped his attention to the door, blocking out what the Repo man said next, and nearly choked to death on his own saliva. If he hadn't of known better, he would have sworn the girl was trying to kill him, coming into the room eating a pale-yellow Popsicle. Nathan swallowed thickly and tried very hard not to stare as she came toward him.

"Here you go," Shilo said with a smile, handing him the ice-pack.

"Th-thank you, precious," her father stammered, taking the proffered item gingerly, careful not to touch her, and pressing it to the left side of his face.

"You genius," Repo said, gawking at Shilo. "You fucking genius. Buying Popsicles so she can practice before you give her the real thing. Sometimes you amaze me."

"You're welcome, Daddy," she replied, grin widening as she sat on the piano bench.

"Oh fuck," Repo growled. "She fucking called you 'daddy' with that delightfully phallic thing in her mouth. That's like fucking insta-boner."

How very right he was. Nathan's right hand clenched on the couch as he felt himself harden, straining against his trousers. He couldn't look away from Shilo's mouth as she ate the ice pop, sucking gently on the tip. A drop of juice trickled down the side and she licked it off, tongue running bottom to top. He fought very hard not to groan. Another drop on a different side, another lick, the entire Popsicle disappearing into her mouth when her tongue reached the tip.

"Fuck can that girl handle it," Repo rasped, rubbing himself through the coat. "Please tell me we're going to have that mouth soon. Like, now is good."

_-her breath was cool against his hot, sensitive flesh, her mouth still cold from the Popsicle, the combination of chill and heat making him moan loudly as her lips wrapped around his-_

Nathan cut off the thought and tore his eyes away from Shilo.

"God fucking dammit! Why do you keep doing that?" Repo snarled in frustration. "Fuck, I've never met anyone that fucking cock-blocked their own goddamn brain."

"Oh! I almost forgot," Shilo said out of nowhere, startling her father.

She stood and started walking over to him. Nathan, remembering the bulge in his pants, panicked. What was he going to do? He couldn't let her see that. What would she think of him?

Repo rolled his eyes. "Relax, I got this," he said, picking up one of Shilo's stuffed animals and tossing it onto Nathan's crotch. The hippo glared angrily up at him, clearly unhappy at being in this awkward position.

"Dad! What the hell are you doing with Mr. Wuffles?" Shilo asked, offended, as she scooped the toy up into her arms. Mr. Wuffles continued to glower at Nathan.

"What the fuck are you looking at, Mr. Wuffles?" Repo snarled, glaring right back. "Keep it up and I'll tear your little plastic eyes right the fuck off!"

_What the hell is wrong with you? Threatening an inanimate object…_

"Nothing, honey, I just wanted to see him, that's all," Nathan said out loud, leaning forward quickly and laying his free arm across his crotch.

"Hey, if that little bastard wasn't looking at me like I'm fucking crazy," Repo snarled, still in a staring contest with the stuffed hippo and losing.

_I wonder why he might be doing that…_

"You should know better than to throw him around," Shilo said sternly, doing nothing to help get rid of Nathan's erection. "He's very old and needs to be handled with care."

"I'm terribly sorry, Shi, I wasn't thinking," Nathan apologized. "Now, what did you almost forget?"

Shilo carefully sat the hippo on the loveseat, or so she thought. As it was, he ended up right on the Repo man's lap. Repo grinned wickedly.

"Gotcha now, ya little bastard. Wait 'til she goes to bed. I'll be coming for you."

Mr. Wuffles looked none too pleased at the notion. Terrified, in fact.

"I brought you these," Shilo said, pulling a bottle of pain reliever out of her pocket and holding it out to him.

"Oh. Th-That's very sweet of you, Shilo," Nathan told her, forcing a smile, "but I don't need them."

"Oh." She seemed almost disappointed.

He forced his smile bigger. "I do thank you very much, darling, but it's not as bad as it looks. It doesn't hurt that much."

Repo snorted. "Oh, no, it doesn't hurt at all," he growled, digging a thumb into the bruised flesh below his right eye.

Nathan reflexively grimaced and his daughter gave him a look that said, "Uh-huh, right". She then realized her frozen treat wasn't so frozen anymore, that it was melting onto her hand. She licked the juice off her fingers, then stuffed the whole thing into her mouth again. Nathan felt his groin throb at the sight and stifled a groan.

"Dad, why are you so stubborn?" Shilo asked, the Popsicle out of her mouth.

"I don't know, child," Repo growled in annoyance. "I keep trying to break him of it but it's not working. Like right now. He wants nothing more than to undress you with his teeth, lick every square inch of you, then fuck you so hard you'll have trouble walking for a week. But he won't, no matter how much we all would enjoy it."

Nathan stared at her in confusion, the thoughts in his head and the comments from the Repo man making it difficult to comprehend what she was saying. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Why won't you just take the damn pills?"

"Because he's a goddamn masochist and he wants to wallow in the pain, to use it as punishment to help keep the guilt at bay," Repo said, sneering at Nathan.

"Because I just don't want them, Shilo, is that so wrong?" Nathan snapped, frustrated with the whole situation. He needed to get out of there, now, before he did something he would regret, so he hauled himself to his feet, thinking quickly. "I, I should go and, wash your sheets. I got mud all over them."

"Pity that's the only thing you got all over them," Repo commented.

Shilo caught his arm as he tried to leave and he turned to her. God, she was so close to him, he could smell her, could practically feel her body heat. An aggressive, burning desire rose in him, feeling like black leather sliding against his skin. Suddenly there were strong hands resting on his hips and hot breath brushing against his ear.

"It would take no effort at all, you know," the Repo man quietly growled in Nathan's ear. "The bed is only a few steps away, and she's so small, and you're so strong..."

"Please don't go," she said softly, looking at him like he was the only other person in the world. Which, he suddenly realized, wasn't far from the truth.

It also struck him how just right his other half was. It would be easy, almost too easy. All he would have to do is put his big, strong hands on her small, slim shoulders and push, push her back and down onto the bed and then... Nathan felt his heart start to pound, beating faster and har-

_-der, deeper. She was arching against him and crying out harshly, her voice rough and cracked from overuse, as their sweat-slick bodies-_

"Shilo, take your medicine," he said, his own voice rough as he gently pulled his arm out of her hand.

"Dad," she pleaded sadly.

"Hey, now, shh, it's alright," Nathan gently reassured his daughter, cupping her face with one hand. "I'll be back. I just want to get your sheets washed so they don't get stained, okay?"

"Okay," Shilo murmured.

Nathan smiled, just a small tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he gently brushed his thumb against her cheek. "That's my girl. Now, go on and take your meds."

Obediently, she went to do so. He watched her a moment, then stripped the sheets and pillowcases off her bed. Clutching the cloth to his chest, he couldn't help but notice the rather pleasant way their two scents mixed. He shook his head firmly. No, he mustn't think things like that. Ever.

"Do you need some help?" Shilo asked, suddenly right beside him.

Nathan had to fight to keep from noticeably starting. "N-No, precious, I've got it." He gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Now, you stay here. I'll be back later, I promise."

"Okay, Daddy." She still seemed sad at the thought of him leaving, despite his promise.

Giving her a soft, reassuring kiss on the cheek, little more than just a brush of his lips against her skin, Nathan reluctantly left the room, making sure he shut the door behind him.

"We're not _really_ off to do laundry, are we?" Repo asked as they descended the stairs. "Because, y'know, I'm fucking horny as hell."

"Of course we are," Nathan replied, going through the kitchen and into the small laundry room, tossing the ice-pack back in the freezer as he went. "I wouldn't lie to my child."

Repo stared at him in bewilderment as he put the bedclothes into the washing machine. "Did I just hear you say you wouldn't lie to your child?"

"Well," Nathan began, starting up the machine, "not about little things."

"And that makes it okay?" the Repo man asked, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb.

"What does it matter to you?" Nathan retorted, not facing his other half.

"I just don't like liars," Repo stated.

Nathan snorted. "That's rich, coming from a murderer."

"At least I fucking own it, unlike _some_ people," his dark half snapped. "You really should tell her, you know, about us, about what we do. The longer you wait, the more she'll hate you when she finally does find out." A smile curled the corner of his mouth. "And if you're worried about what she'll think of you, all you gotta do is explain everything while wearing our coat."

"And what is that going to do?" he returned, annoyed.

"Get her all fired up so she's not thinking straight by distracting her with the deliciousness, duh." He ran a hand slowly across his chest. "Because, really, what's sexier than leather, blood, and steel? Mmm, speaking of steel do you think she'd like it if we brought our scalpel into the bedroom? Wouldn't cut too m–"

Nathan spun quickly on his heel. "Stop talking about her like that!" he spat, hands curling into fists as he stepped close to his other half. "And don't you _dare_ try to tell me how to raise my child."

Repo grabbed the shoulders of the other man's shirt and slammed him against the wall opposite the washer and dryer.

"You'd better watch you're tone with me, cunt," he snarled, teeth bared and eyes glinting dangerously.

Fear coursed through Nathan, fear and – No, not _that_. He must be mistaken. It had to be fear, just the fear, that was sending chills up his spine and making his heart race. The leer on Repo's face faded into a cocky smirk.

Slowly, so slowly, he leaned in and gave the side of Nathan's neck a long, hot lick.

"O-oh shi-hit," Nathan stammered, shuddering. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"C'mon," Repo growled, gently nipping and licking the other's neck, "like you don't know. Or don't want me to."

"No, I d—uunh…"

His sentence dissolved into a moan as Repo's right hand gripped his erection through his pants. The dark thing chuckled and moved so he could look the other in the eyes.

"Oh, no, you don't want it at all," he drawled sarcastically, beginning to stroke Nathan. "I swear, slamming you around is better than fucking Viagra…"

Before his other half could respond, the Repo man leaned in and kissed him, well, Nathan would have been loath to use the word "tenderly" (not to mention that Repo probably would have punched him in the mouth for doing so) but he was surprisingly gentle, doing little more than just pressing theirs lips together. Stunned by the other's actions, it took Nathan a moment to decide how to react. Should he try and push him away? Or just go with it? Repo kissed him slightly harder, demanding a response.

Hang it. He returned the kiss. Repo's hand let go of Nathan's shirt and went to his hip, the other still at his cock, thumb working in small circles and stroking him through the cloth. Almost hesitantly, Repo's tongue flicked against the other's lips, asking entrance, which, unthinking, he gave and was surprised again. While the other was still controlling and demanding, exerting his dominance, he was careful not to press to hard, conscious of Nathan's injured lip, and was probing his mouth as gently as could be expected from the Repo man.

Nathan grew suspicious. This wasn't like his other half. Asking instead of just taking, being careful not to hurt him… He must have been up to something. What, Nathan wasn't sure of, wasn't entirely sure what he frtgz.

Repo chuckled. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" he breathed against Nathan's mouth, his own tongue darting out and brushing against the other's lips. He looked down at where his arm disappeared into those pinstriped slacks and wiggled his fingers, making Nathan shiver as leather-clad fingertips stroked lightly against his bare skin. "Oh wait. I've got your dick."

He laughed again, gave Nathan a moan-inducing squeeze, then quickly removed the other man's t-shirt, taking his glasses with it. The clothing landed on the washing machine, followed swiftly by Repo's gloves. Nathan licked his lips nervously as Repo pressed close to him and slid now-bare hands onto his hips. Giving his double a mischievous smirk, the dark thing laid hot, open-mouthed kiss on his throat, making him whimper pathetically and throw his head back. Repo grazed his teeth over Nathan's throat and moved to kiss the uninjured side of his neck, sucking oh-so-gently as he let his hands wander over the other's bare torso, hitting all the sensitive zones he'd found earlier, scraping gently with his nails. Nathan moaned loudly.

Part of his brain was still convinced Repo was up to something and was quite irked at the fact that he was playing him like a skilled pianist would a piano. A moaning, panting, squirming piano. The rest of him didn't give a damn and was, in truth, quite delighted at being manipulated by those skilled hands.

"See now," Repo said, back at Nathan's throat, kissing and licking it. "See? I can be gentle. So can we go play with your girl now? Please?"

Nathan somehow managed to push him away and stared at him, taken aback. "What?"

"Well, I know you were worried about me hurting her and I was just –"

"Damn it all," Nathan spat, shoving Repo aside and moving over to the other side of the room. "I knew you were up to something. I don't give a damn how gentle you are, you won't touch her."

"Why not? I want it, you want it, she wants it."

"No," Nathan bit out sharply, pulling his shirt back on. "I don't know why you keep bringing that up. It's not true. And I thought you didn't like liars."

"I'm not lying," Repo snarled. "You're just ignoring the facts."

"What 'facts'?" Nathan asked angrily, turning to his dark half, glasses in hand.

"Well, for one thing," Repo began, stepping close to Nathan and tracing his lower lip with a fingertip, "the way she touched you earlier. And the fact that she crawled back into bed with us, snuggled up close, and wrapped your arm around her."

"That doesn't prove anything," Nathan snapped, shoving past the Repo man again.

"Nope, nothing," Repo said dryly. "It's just kind of funny that she could have been off doing whatever she wanted. I mean, you were asleep, the door was unlocked, she was even out of the room at one point. And yet, what did she do? She came back and fell asleep in your arms."

"So? It's not the first time she's slept next to me like that."

"True. But the last time was when she was five and she'd had a nightmare and she needed her daddy to protect her from the monsters. Being almost grown and doing so sends a completely different signal."

"Would you just drop it already?"

"I can't. Don't you get that?" Repo snarled in frustration. "God, I was so close last night, so close and you…"

Nathan snapped to face his doppelganger. "What the hell do you mean, you were so close?"

Repo snorted a laugh. "I'm almost astonished you don't remember. I mean, I can understand earlier, you'd just woken up but now-"

"Answer me," Nathan snarled quietly.

"I almost fucking had your girl last night."

Nathan felt his stomach drop. "You didn't."

"I most certainly did," Repo replied, grinning wickedly. "Here, have a look."

Nathan blanched as the memories welled up, in hazy bits and pieces at first, eventually sharpening and fitting together cohesively…

_He slunk into the girl's room, silent as a shadow, and froze just inside the door, listening intently. Aside from the rain clattering on the roof and windows, it was quiet, not to mention nearly pitch-black. She must have been asleep. He smiled, a twisted, toothy, predatory leer, and slowly started stalking toward the bed. His other half railed at him as he walked._

_**Would you be quiet?**__ he snarled, slipping into the plastic curtain. __**You can bitch all you want but it won't do a thing.**_

_Lightning flashed, illuminating the room for a split-second. He could still see her, an afterimage burned on his retinas: asleep on her side, covers pulled up to her chin, her black hair a stark contrast to her pale skin, which seemed almost translucent in the lightning. Sinking down onto his haunches next to the bed, he wondered why she was sleeping in her wig. Did she just forget to take it off? Or did doing so give her a sense of normalcy? Did he really care that much?_

_He leaned in close to her, hands on the mattress to steady himself, and inhaled deeply. She smelled fresh and clean, with a faint, chemically tang at the back of his throat, almost like an aftertaste. Returning back to his haunches, he cocked his head to the side. He was going to try every part of her tonight. But where to start?_

Don't you dare even think about it,_ his other half snapped at him._

_**Or you'll what? Yell at me some more?**__ he returned, rolling his eyes._

I, I'll figure something out, dammit.

_**Mmhmm…**_

_Another flash of lightning, followed a few seconds later by a low rumble of thunder. That toothy grin twisted his face again. He had it now: he'd start at the top and work his way down._

_Reaching out a hand, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. She woke at his touch and froze, terrified._

"_Dad?" She sounded worried and uncertain._

"_Yeah, it's me," he said._

"_You sound funny. Are you all right?"_

_He chuckled. "I'm fine, precious."_

"_Ok." She was quiet a moment. "What do you want?"_

"_I was just checking on you, y'know, the storm," he replied, gently stroking her cheek. "Although…"_

_He pushed her onto her back and climbed on top of her._

"_Dad! What are you –?"_

_He cut her off with a finger on her lips. "Shh, it's okay. I won't hurt you." __**Much…**_

_Taking his finger off of her mouth, he kissed the side of her neck, right over her pulse, which he could feel pounding like mad under his lips. He ground down against her and she let out something like a soft squeak. Smirking, he flicked his tongue against her neck, making her gasp._

"_Tell me something, precious," he breathed in her ear, grinding against her. "Do you think you could do daddy a favor?"_

"_What-what's that?" she stammered as he pulled back a little._

_Another brief illumination. She was flushed, her face a mixture of fear, wariness, and, underneath them, a touch of lust and eagerness. His smirk broadened and he slid off of her, sitting next to her on the inside of the bed. The girl followed suit, sitting up as well. He could feel her eyes on him in the darkness._

"_It won't be that hard." He chuckled. "Well, it _will_ be quite hard, but it won't be complicated. All you gotta do is put something in your mouth and suck on it. Can you do that for daddy?"_

_He could have sworn he actually heard her swallow nervously. She nodded, just a shifting of her silhouette._

"_That's a good girl," he told her as he undid his pants and pulled his cock out._

_One hand on the back of her neck, he gently but firmly urged her face toward his crotch…_

_Well, that's what he wanted to do, what he planned on doing. As it was, he was still on his haunches next to the bed, his hand stretched toward the girl, hovering just a few inches away from her face. He tried to push it closer, but it slid back in inch instead. Feeling his face scrunch up with the strain, he tried harder. His hand didn't budge._

No,_ his other half growled simply and firmly._

_**You stubborn bastard.**_

I told you I'd figure something out.

_Before he could reply, thunder cracked right above them, rattling the windows and waking the girl. Seeing her jump, he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. He could feel her shake just a little._

"_Dad? What are you doing here?" she asked, then grew suspicious. "Were you watching me sleep?"_

"_What? No, don't be silly, darling, I was just coming to check on you when you woke up. I had a terrible, terrible nightmare and I needed to make sure you were okay. Can you make it back to sleep alright?"_

_The girl sighed._

"_I think so."_

"_Here," the dark thing said, crawling behind her and wrapping an arm around her, "I'll stay with you 'til you fall asleep. How's that sound, huh?"_

"_Okay," she mumbled, snuggling closer to him. "I love you, Daddy."_

_He smirked and kissed the top of her head. "I love you too… precious."_

The washing machine buzzed, startling Nathan back to the present. He glared at the Repo man.

"You bastard, she wasn't talking to you when she said 'I love you'. You had no right to respond," he snarled angrily.

"What was I supposed to do?" Repo asked. "Ignore her? No, wait, I know. I shoulda smacked her and told her to shut the fuck up, right?"

"You shouldn't have gone in there in the first place," Nathan snapped. "If I hadn't have been there to stop you –"

"You know what?" Repo cut in. "One of these days you won't be able to stop me. And when that happens, I _will _have her, and she will scream, and she will bleed, and you wanna know something else? She… will… like it."

"You're a monster," Nathan spat.

Repo laughed. "Back to the name-calling, are we? Of course I'm a monster; you made me that way. The way I see it, why try and be something I'm not?"

Nathan shook his head as he loaded Shilo's bedding into the dryer and started the machine. "I fucking hate you so much."

"I know. But do you really think I care?" his other half replied, watching him head for the door. "Where are you going?"

Halting in the doorway, Nathan threw a backward glance over his shoulder at the Repo man. "My work coat is covered in dried blood, thanks to you. I need to clean it."

Repo followed behind him like a black leather shadow as he went down into the lab and started hosing down the jacket. Nathan spent the rest of the afternoon meticulously scrubbing and scraping every last spot of blood off his coat, Repo watching him and making smart-ass comments about him being OCD, a bitch, and having a nice ass, amongst other things, the entire time.

By the time he finished cleaning the leather and returned to Shilo's room, cold, clean sheets in hand, the sun was low on the horizon and sending golden light streaming through the windows. He knocked softly on the door as he entered her room. Shilo, who had been sitting next to the window and watching the wispy pinky clouds scuttle across the sky, dashed over and threw her arms around him. Had she not been so small and slight she might have actually bowled him over.

"I'm so glad you came back," she said, slightly muffled in the sheets.

"Honey, I told you I'd be back," he replied softly. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"About little things," Repo added dryly.

"I know, I was just…" Shilo trialed off with a soft sigh.

A quiet smile tugging at his mouth, Nathan untangled one arm from the bedclothes and wrapped it around Shilo, clasping her as tightly as he dared. They stayed like that for a long while, not moving, not speaking. It was so nice to be held by someone he loved so deeply, especially after the previous night.

"Hey," he said eventually, hating himself for ending the moment. "Let's get these sheets back on your bed."

"Okay," Shilo mumbled.

She stayed where she was just a little longer, then reluctantly took a few steps back. Just as reluctant, Nathan moved to her bed and started reapplying the bedding. Shilo slipped in on the other side and grabbed the sheet.

"Here, I'll help," she said.

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that. I've got it."

"Dad, I want to, okay?"

"A-alright," Nathan conceded.

"Well, well, look at that," Repo growled, circling behind Shilo. "She's eager to please. I'd bet all you'd have to do is ask." He softened his voice so that it matched Nathan's. "Darling, could you do something for daddy? Just put your hand right here and –"

"Enough!" Nathan barked, unintentionally aloud.

Shilo froze, the fitted sheet half tucked under the corner of the mattress. "Is something wrong?" she asked, sounding worried. "Did I –?"

"No," her father said quickly. "You didn't do anything. There were just, too many thoughts in my head at once, that's all. I didn't mean to scare you."

She visibly relaxed and laughed, soft and slightly shaky. "You didn't scare me, just startled me a little."

"Regardless, I-I'm sorry, honey," her father said softly, looking at his hands, which had the sheets in a death-grip.

He forced a smile and his hands to unclench, then tossed the other side of the flat sheet to Shilo. They continued making the bed in awkward silence. Nathan avoided her gaze in embarrassment, ashamed that he hadn't been able to keep his dark side in check. She didn't look at him because, well, he wasn't a mind reader so he couldn't be entirely sure. Maybe she thought he was crazy; maybe she thought he was angry with her. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't try.

As he slipped the last pillow into its case, his daughter flopped backwards onto the bed, ruining his crisp, clean lines. He sighed, slightly annoyed.

"Come on now, Shi," Nathan said. "We just finished and you're getting everything all messed up."

"I know." She giggled. "Remember when I was little and I'd help you make the bed? It would take forever."

"Yes, well, if I recall correctly that's because someone was more of a hinder than a help," he gently teased, dropping the pillow in its proper place.

"Yeah, and if _I_ recall correctly, someone would chase me all over the place instead of working," Shilo returned as her father sat down on the edge of the bed, slightly turned so he could still see her.

"I did no such thing," Nathan said with a quiet smile.

In his head he was back there, when Shilo was small and the world didn't seem quite so bleak, chasing her around the room and through the sheets that were supposed to be neatly on the bed, tickling her 'til she squealed with laughter when he let himself catch her. Sometimes he would pick her up and spin her 'round and 'round until she was dizzy, then hold her tight to him as the vertigo faded. Those were some of his favorite memories, those sweet, playful father-daughter moments (he thought he heard the sound of someone retching dramatically), particularly the one where he had spun them 'til they were both dizzy and he had to close his eyes while he waited for the room to stop whirling, clutching her protectively to his chest. Nathan wished he could do that again, if only once, just hold her close and listen to her breathe, knowing that, for good or ill, he was the only thing standing between her and the warped thing this world had become. But he couldn't, not while the Repo man was there, not with the thoughts that had been running through his head the past year or so. Even remembering was hard sometimes; one instant Shilo was small and serving him imaginary tea, the next she was practically grown and providing a much different type of "service", on her knees with her mouth on his –

A pillow smacked him in the face.

"Hey," Shilo said, sounding almost offended. "I'm talking to you."

Startled, Nathan shook his head and the thoughts from it and looked at her. "I'm sorry, darling; I blanked out there for a minute. What did you say?"

"Never mind," she said with a sigh. "It wasn't important." She rolled over onto her stomach, propped up on her elbows, as he stood. "Dad? Are you leaving?"

Nathan froze, not entirely sure what he was doing. "No, yes, for just a little while," he told her, organizing his thoughts. "I'll go make us some dinner; you stay here and put your pajamas on."

"No!" Shilo said quickly, scrambling over to stand in front of him. "I'll go make something. You stay here."

"Shi, please don't fight with me," he pleaded.

His daughter folded her arms stubbornly. "Dad, we've already been over this. I said I'd take care of you today and that's what I'm going to do."

"But Shilo –"

"No 'buts', Dad, you're staying put," she stated firmly, putting her hands on his shoulders and forcing him to sit down on the edge of the bed. "**Stay.**"

Dumbfounded, Nathan couldn't do much besides watch her as she left the room, snagging a nightgown as she went. He felt something shift on the bed to his left and he turned to find Repo lounging back against Shilo's headboard.

"I swear," the Repo man began, lacing his fingers behind his head, "that girl handles you better than I can. Don't know how; she must have found the manual that goes to you. 'Course, there's also the fact that you'd do anything in the world for her, where you fight me tooth and nail."

"Of course I would do anything for Shilo; she's all I have," Nathan replied. "Besides, she's not a monster who tries to get me to do unspeakable things."

Repo snorted. "I think you mean 'awesome' things…"

Nathan shot his doppelganger an irritated look. "No, I do _not_ mean 'awesome things'. If I had meant that I would have said it."

"Funny, I think you did," Repo said with a smirk. "Because, y'know, we're the same person."

With an annoyed sigh, his other half just shook his head and turned away from him. Repo watched him for a minute, waiting for a response. When it was obvious he wasn't going to be getting one, he pressed the tip of his forefinger deep into the contusions on his left cheek. Nathan gasped and clapped a hand over the bruising on his own face, then snapped to his dark half.

"What the hell was that?" he spat through gritted teeth.

"That was so you'd stop ignoring me. You need to quit sulking, you whiney bitch," Repo snarled, then patted the bed just to his right. "Get your ass over here."

"What? Why? So you can grope me?"

"Do you want me to?" Repo simpered. "I wasn't planning on it, but I am flexible."

Nathan ignored the comment and studied the other suspiciously. "What _do_ you want, then?"

Repo rolled his eyes. "Just fucking get over here."

Warily, Nathan did so, not taking his eyes off his other half and making sure he shoved Shilo's pillow out of the way as he leaned his back against the headboard. It was only after assuring himself that the Repo man wasn't going to try anything that he let himself look away from the dark thing sitting next to him. He frowned. Damn it, he'd forgotten that there was still mud on his feet and the cuffs of his pants from the walk home last night, dried now and flaking off onto the blanket he'd just washed.

A soft sound caught his attention and he turned in time to see Shilo enter the room, a tray with food on it in her hands and dressed in the nightgown she'd grabbed on the way out.

"That's why I wanted you next to me," Repo explained. "I heard her on the stairs, figured it'd be easier if you were already over here than having to wait while you squawk for twenty minutes then just do what she tells you anyway."

Beaming and clearly proud of herself, Shilo strolled over to him. Nathan's stomach rumbled at the smell of food and he suddenly realized he hadn't eaten anything in roughly 24 hours.

"Here we are," Shilo announced, giving her father a big grin as she sat the tray on his lap. "Grilled cheese. I hope that's all right, I, I don't know how to make much else."

Nathan examined his sandwich: perhaps a tad "extra crispy" but all-in-all a fine grilled cheese. He returned her grin. "It's wonderful, honey, thank you."

Somehow her smile widened as she grabbed her plate and crawled onto the foot of the bed, then laid down on her stomach and clicked the TV on, munching her sandwich as she flipped through the channels. Nathan started in on his own food, doing his best not to wolf his down like his clamoring insides were demanding he do.

"So what are we watching?" he inquired between bites.

"Not sure yet," Shilo replied. "I was thinking either the encore broadcast of last night's Genetic Opera-I was so mad when I missed it last night-or there's this really old movie on that looks pretty good."

"What movie?"

"Mmm, can't remember the name of it. Something about giant bugs eating people in New York City."

"I see," Nathan said contemplatively. "And what's this rated?"

The channels stopped changing for a second before resuming their flickering switching. "PG-13."

"Is it now?"

"Mmhmm."

"Shilo…"

She sighed and turned to look at her father. "Okay, fine, it's R, all right?"

"Well you know that means," he told her.

"Oh, come _on_, Dad," Shilo protested.

"Yeah, lighten up," Repo agreed, nudging Nathan with his elbow. "Let the girl watch the movie."

Nathan shook his head sternly. "You know you're prone to nightmares, Shilo," he stated. "A scary movie right before bedtime…"

"Is a fucking brilliant idea," Repo put in. "Freak her out and send her right to our bed. And then, then we can have some fun."

Shilo seemed to deflate. "I guess you're right," she said, sounding defeated as she finished the last few bites of her sandwich.

"I'm not trying to be mean, honey, it's just –"

She waved the rest of his sentence away. "I know, I know. You just want what's best for me." She sighed, then held out her hand. "Here, I'll take the tray."

He handed her the requested item and she slid off the bed, tray in one hand and the remote in the other. Setting the slab of steel on a table, Shilo swiftly swallowed a dose of medication, much to her father's surprise. The reminder hadn't gone off yet; clearly her internal clock had become attuned to her "needs", knowing what she "needed" and when.

Shilo surprised him again: she didn't return to the foot of the bed, instead starting to climb in next to him on his left. Repo grinned wickedly and patted his thighs.

"That's it, girlie, come sit in daddy's lap."

Nathan shot his other half a mental warning, not so much in words as in images of the Repo man being beaten with various large, heavy objects.

"All right, fine," Repo growled, suddenly on Nathan's right and sulking. "Happy? It's not like she can fucking see me as it is."

Shilo ended up in the exact spot Repo had just vacated and wrapped her father's arm around her as she snuggled up close to him, head resting on his chest and his big hand held in her much smaller ones. The opera was starting, the bittersweet melody of the overture flowing from the speakers in brittle brass and plaintive strings, interwoven with the soft, mellow sighing of the woodwinds. Nathan didn't know much about opera-his own life being dramatic enough as it was, he'd never really been interested in adding extra theatrics to it-but there was something about the music, perhaps the sorrowful undertones shading the score, that made him suspect that this story wasn't going to end well. He wondered how high the body-count would get: would they all end up dead? Or only most of them?

Nathan scoffed silently. Opera was so unrealistic and over-the-top. As if anyone's life ever really ended so dramatically, with a bloody, emotion-fueled aria or the like.

His daughter shifted a little, accidentally bumping against him and making him suck in a sharp breath. His ribs, while he didn't think they were bruised or broken, were sore from the kick he took. Shilo looked up at him in concern.

"Daddy, are you all right?"

He gave her a wan smile. "I'm fine, darling, just a little bit sore," he told her, then gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. "Let's watch the opera, okay?"

Giving him a smile that was just as drawn, Shilo nodded slightly and returned her attention to the television, being extra careful as she moved. Nathan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bed frame. After a moment, he felt his eyes start to sting as he realized what was happening: he was holding Shilo and just listening to her breathe, the music having faded into white noise. He didn't know how or why it was happening, whether it was by accident or design, but that wasn't important. All that mattered was the here and now and he was going to relish every second of it.

Feeling tears start to slowly trickle down his face, he shifted a little so that both of his hands enveloped Shilo's and leaned forward, wrapping himself protectively around her the best he could and resting his cheek on the top of her head. As long as he was there nothing could touch her, not the outside, not her disease, not the monster in him; as long as she was still breathing there was hope, for him, for forgiveness, for redemption. He pulled her tighter, as much as his ribs would allow, and they stayed like that for a very long time, exactly how long he didn't know, the only thing he could focus on being Shilo.

She eventually twigged that something was off.

"Dad? Is everything okay?"

Nathan pulled away a bit so he could see his daughter as she turned to him. Surprise flickered across her face before being quickly replaced by worry that was tinged with sadness. She pulled her hands out of his grasp.

"I'm so sorry," Shilo apologized, wiping the tears off her father's face. "I didn't know this one would be so sad. I didn't mean to make you cry, I-I should have picked something else to watch."

"No," he said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. "It was perfect, precious, exactly what I wanted."

"Really?" She sounded doubtful.

"Really." He pulled away a little and checked the time. Nearly 11. "Oh dear, it's getting awfully late. Time for you to go to bed."

He took the remote from her hand and clicked the TV off. Climbing over Shilo to get out of the bed, Nathan felt a tug on his sleeve as his feet hit the floor. He turned and found Shilo holding onto his shirt and giving the same sad look she had earlier.

"I-I don't want you to go. Can, can you stay with me 'til I fall asleep? I mean, I know I'm 16 but –"

"Of course I can. Here, let's get you tucked in," he said, tugging at the blanket. Dutifully, Shilo wriggled under the covers as her father pulled them over her. He gave her a warm smile. "There. Comfy?"

She nodded and he brushed a hand over her face, then carefully took off her wig and put it in its proper place for the night. When he returned to her bedside, Nathan sat on the floor next to Shilo, his back against the bed, and leaned his head against the mattress.

"So, do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?" he asked, joking.

Shilo reached out a hand and gently stroked his hair. "Nah. How about a song?"

"A song?" he asked, partially puzzled, and turned his face to her. "Really? Honey, I haven't sung in years."

"Please, Daddy? The one you used to sing to me when I had a nightmare."

"Alright," he said with a sigh. "Let's see if I can remember."

Nathan dredged up the lyrics from a dusty corner of his mind, shook the dirt off, and began to sing them, his voice rich and clear, if a bit shaky at first, growing strong and confident as he progressed. He closed his eyes and let the melody, usually mellow and deep but occasionally soaring, carry him. The song was old, had been old even when he was young, and not exactly a lullaby but so beautiful it didn't matter. Nathan threw everything he had into it, his voice nearly cracking when he sang the chorus.

As the last note faded, he turned to Shilo. She was fast asleep. Carefully, Nathan heaved himself to his feet and stood for a moment, just looking at her, before gently stroking his fingertips lightly down her cheek. He didn't want to leave, yet felt he'd already stayed too long. Somehow, he managed to pull himself away and slowly, reluctantly, left the room.

Stopping in the doorway after killing the lights, Nathan threw one long last look in Shilo's direction-being unable to see anything in the dark-before silently shutting the door behind him. Conflicting thoughts and emotions swirled around inside his head. Should he go back into her room? Go lock himself in his? Leave the house altogether? He didn't know if he could trust himself, didn't know how to feel, what to do.

Nathan leaned back against the door, slid to the floor, put his head in his hands, and did the only thing he could think of: he began to softly cry.

**A/N: Aww, poor Nathan... He makes me sad...**

**Gotta make this quick... Last time I stole the lines "Your chains are still mine/You belong to me" from (at least the film version of) the Phantom of the Opera... Sue me, I'm broke and the movie's all I've seen... Although I did change them around a bit because I couldn't get the conversation to flow right by keeping them together and complete... But, they're there... Also, reworked the lines "Silence-We'll hunt for the lord/He takes crimson and gold/Gave ice to the cold" from the song "Killing the Dragon" by Dio... Dunno why, but they just remind me of Rotti...**

**Also, if you didn't figure it out, the movie Shilo wants to watch is "Mimic"... Saw it and was like "FFFF- Shilo would love this... 'Course, Nathan would never let her watch it..." Oh, and the song Nathan sings? "Silent Lucidity" by Queensryche... Go, YouTube it... I dunno, something about it just seemed perfect... That and I thought it would make a good match for Anthony Head's voice... Could be crazy, but... *shrugs***


	6. Apologies and Assignments

_We now return you to our regular programming, filled with all the sick-fuckery you've come to expect._

_*looks at everyone coming over from deviantArt* You people are perverts... And I love you for it :D_

-

The Repo man looked Nathan up and down with a sneer as his other half pulled on a belt.

"You're fucking with me, right?" Repo growled. "Tell me this is a really bad joke."

Nathan shot Repo a backward glance as he slipped on a vest. "I never joke."

"I know; that's the fucking problem," Repo snarled. "After all I did for y—"

"What you did is exactly why I have to do this," Nathan spat angrily, rounding on his other half.

Repo, seated on the edge of the bed, didn't flinch. "You don't _have_ to do anything." He shrugged. "So you haven't heard from the fat man for a few days, big deal. You said yourself that he wouldn't let you out of your contract."

"That may very well be," Nathan began, "but I can't just wait around until who knows when for Rotti to call me. I do have bills to pay."

"No shit," his other half snorted. "This house is ungodly expensive to maintain. But that's not the biggest reason you're planning this stupidity."

Nathan quickly looked away from his dark half and walked over to the side table. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bull-fucking-shit you don't. You're afraid of what he's gonna do to you, worried that the longer you wait, the worse it'll be," Repo sneered as Nathan put on his wrist-com.

"Am I wrong?" the other shot back, smoothing his clothes down nervously.

"For once you might not be," Repo admitted grudgingly. "It's just that I'm not exactly thrilled about the whole 'crawling back to your master on your belly' thing. You degrade the both of us when you do that."

Nathan felt a hot tongue run across the back of his neck, making him gasp.

"That and the only cock I like inside you is mine," Repo growled quietly in the other's ear as his hands started working at the buckle of Nathan's belt. "I guess I'm just a little bit possessive."

With a quiet groan, Nathan grabbed Repo's hands. "I don't have time for this."

"I'll make it quick then," Repo growled, giving Nathan's ear a playful bite as he unzipped his pants and slid a hand inside them.

"No, goddamn it, I said I don't have time," Nathan snapped, wriggling out of the other's grasp and closing his fly, which wasn't exactly easy to do after all of Repo's licking and groping. "And what on earth makes you think Rotti's going to have sex with me? Just because it's the only thing _you_ ever think about doesn't mean the entire world is obsessed with it."

"Call it an educated guess based on previous experience," Repo said with a shrug, then smirked. "Besides, everyone knows you're too pretty not to rape. It's a universal truth."

Sighing in annoyance, Nathan rolled his eyes and headed out the door, Repo falling in beside him. After a few steps, something clicked in the dark thing's brain and his face lit up.

"Wait just a minute," Repo said with a massive grin on his face. Nathan turned to look at him. "You said you didn't have time, not that you didn't want to."

Nathan stopped dead in his tracks. "Wh- N-No, I-I, implied that I didn't want to," he stammered, not making eye-contact with his other half, who had slid around to stand in front of him. "You need to quit reading between the lines."

"I'm not reading between the lines," Repo stated, folding his arms and cocking an eyebrow. "You're lying."

"No, I —"

"I _know_ when you're fucking lying. You like it when I touch you, and lick you, and bite you…" He grinned wickedly, his reflection-less eyes glittering. "And fuck you…"

Nathan blushed and shoved past the Repo man. "No, I don't. Haven't we already been over this?"

"Li-ar," his other half sing-songed as they continued down the hall. "We may have been over this before, but you were lying then too. You like it and you want me to do it again, and again, and again…"

"No!" Nathan practically squeaked, turning even redder.

Repo chuckled. "You're not very convincing with all that squeaking and blushing… And you do know that the more that you repress something, the more I want it, right?"

"Shut up," Nathan, still red, spat, with less conviction than he wanted.

"Ah, so you do," Repo said with a smirk. "You do and it scares you. I mean, good God, look at all the things you bottle up inside."

"Be quiet," Nathan snarled, quiet but firm, as they stopped just outside of Shilo's door.

Repo rolled his eyes. His other half softly knocked on his daughter's door and called her name before he slipped into the room. Shilo, who was sitting at her desk and categorizing her bug collection, turned and gave him a warm smile as he walked over to her. His right hand going to the back of her chair, Nathan put his left on her shoulder and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"Hello, precious," he murmured.

Shilo put her hand over the one he had on her shoulder. "Hi, Dad, I'm glad to see you. I was starting to worry about you, you know."

He smiled thinly. It was understandable that she'd be worried; the past few days he'd been avoiding her as much as possible and behaving fidgety and nervous when he couldn't.

"I know, Shi, and I'm sorry. I've just had a lot on my mind the past few days," Nathan told her, stroking her hair gently with the hand that had been on the chair.

"Well, I'm glad you're ok," Shilo said, giving him another grin before turning back to her bugs.

Nathan watched her work, his hand absentmindedly massaging her shoulder. She redid the pins in one, something horribly grotesque, and pulled over a book and flipped open to the entry for it. Unthinking, his hand slid higher up to rest partly on the side of her neck and partly on her shoulder, his thumb lightly stroking the back of her neck. Her skin was so soft, so smooth… He felt her shudder a little and make a soft sound. If he hadn't have known any better, he would have sworn it was a quiet moan.

"D-Daddy, c-could you n-not stand behind me, please?" she stammered. "I-It makes me nervous."

"Oh! I'm sorry, darling," Nathan apologized, taking a step to his left. He couldn't help but notice the pink tinge on Shilo's face as she turned away. "I-I should be getting going anyways. Th-They need me at work."

"Oh. Okay." She sounded sad. "I was kinda hoping you'd stay but I guess they really need you, huh?"

"Yes, they really do. I'm sorry, precious." He fell quiet for a few seconds, then sighed quietly. "I don't know how long I'll be but I promise I'll make it back as quick as I can."

"Alright," she said with a sigh of her own. "And you be careful, Dad. You and all your 'accidents' and stuff… If I didn't know any better I'd say you were starting to sound like someone in an abusive relationship."

"What an imagination you have," Nathan said with a shaky laugh, giving her another kiss on the top of her head. "You'll probably be asleep by the time I get home, but I swear I'll be here. I love you, Shilo."

She looked up at him, her cheeks still slightly pink. "I-I love you too, Daddy."

Reluctantly, Nathan pulled himself away and slowly left the room, making sure he shut the door behind him. He could feel Shilo watching him the whole way out. Halting just on the other side of the door, Nathan took a deep, shaky breath and gathered up all the courage he had. He really didn't want to go to Rotti's office, but felt like he had no choice. Waiting was a dangerous game to play with the Italian, and one he was guaranteed to lose. Better to lose before the stakes got too high.

He wasn't able to scrape much courage together, just enough to give him a spine made of marshmallows, but it was a spine nonetheless. Hesitantly, he moved down the hall, gaining some confidence by the time he reached the stairs. Not much, but at least his hands had stopped shaking so badly.

"You're a goddamn coward," the Repo man, who had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs, sneered when Nathan walked past him.

"What are you talking about?" Nathan replied, opening the fireplace and ducking inside. "You of all people should know it's taking everything I have to do this."

"I'm not talking about this," Repo returned as they slipped through the lab. "I'm talking about your girl."

Nathan froze just inside the exit tunnel. Sliding around his other half, Repo leaned against the side of the passageway and smirked at him. His hands twitching and fighting to curl into fists, Nathan glared at his dark half.

"What?" he growled.

"Oh, relax, it's nothing bad," Repo said, still smirking.

"Somehow I doubt that," Nathan snapped, brushing past his double.

Repo rolled his eyes and fell in behind the other. "I swear it's not. It's just that she's so lonely and you won't do anything about it."

"And just how do you propose I alleviate her loneliness? With my penis?" Nathan spat.

"Hey, you said it, not me," Repo said with a shrug. "I was thinking spend some time with her, give her a hug or something. God knows it would help with yours. But I gotta admit, I do like your plan better. Let's go with that one."

"No," Nathan stated simply and firmly. "And I'm not lonely."

"Right," Repo began sarcastically, "because you just have _so_ many friends."

"I am _not_ lonely. How could I be? I'm almost always surrounded by people."

"Oh yes. Let's see now. You don't even acknowledge the presence of the other Repo men, the fat man and his kids fucking own you, use you in whatever way they want, especially as a punching bag, and lately you're always either distant with your girl or acting like a fucking crazy person around her." Repo snorted. "Clearly the word 'denial' is not in your vocabulary."

"Why should it matter to you?" Nathan snarled, angrily throwing the heavy steel door open and storming out into the grungy alley without even checking.

"Because it affects me as well. All of it," Repo shot back, in lockstep with his other half, who was barreling through the streets, trying to escape him.

"Yes, that loneliness must be terrible for you," Nathan hissed sarcastically, keeping his voice down in the hopes that no one would notice him talking to himself. "And how exactly are you supposed to make friends?"

"No, no, it doesn't affect me like that." Repo heaved an exasperated sigh. "The physical pain from you, I can block that out, shut it off. But the mental pain? The anguish that stems from everything-the guilt, the loneliness, the shame-that eats away at your brain in the night? I can't escape it; it tears me apart as well, and hurts so fucking bad."

"Well if it's so terrible, why don't you just go away?" Nathan spat, slipping into GeneCo's lobby.

Repo sneered at him. "You're being a real dick today. I don't have to sit here and take all this shit, so I'm going to just stop talking to you. I can't simply go away, but I can ignore you. We'll see how you like it."

Folding his arms, the Repo man stood next to Nathan as they waited for the elevator to arrive in silence. After a few minutes, the doors opened and several people poured out. Nathan was too frazzled from his argument with Repo and his tattered nerves to notice anything about them. Stepping into the lift, he jabbed the button for Rotti's office and folded his own arms defensively as it started upward.

He hadn't realized just how awkward and uncomfortable it would be with a silent Repo man lurking just on the edge of his vision. Doing his best to ignore the dark thing, Nathan watched the floor numbers light up and go dark as they passed them, his toe tapping nervously. Around the twelfth floor, his stomach started twisting into knots that grew more and more constricted the higher they climbed.

Closer and closer, tighter and tighter. Nathan felt like he might actually throw up at one point. He heard Repo make a contemptuous noise behind him, but he never said a word.

One floor away now. Forcing his arms to uncross, Nathan did his best to compose himself as the last number lit up and the doors slid open. Unsteadily, he stepped into the office, which was empty except for the master of GeneCo. Rotti looked up from his paperwork and paled, his eyes widening slightly. His hand dropped behind the desk.

"Nathan," he said in surprise, a note of fear in his voice. "W-What are you doing here?"

Holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture, Nathan slowly approached the desk, his eyes constantly flicking down to where Rotti's hand should be. What the hell was he doing? Going for a gun? Calling security? Neither was any good for what he had planned.

"P-Please, sir, I-I came to apologize," the younger man stammered, coming to a stop right in front of the desk. He heard the not-quite-sound of the Repo man coming up behind him and flopping onto the couch, followed by a sudden desire for popcorn that turned his stomach.

Rotti's eyes narrowed as he looked at Nathan suspiciously. "Apologize?" he said quietly.

"Yes, sir, for what I did the other day. I-I don't know what came over me, I'm sor—"

"I can't believe the nerve you have," Rotti interrupted, still dangerously quiet. "You think you can just stroll into my office after the shit you pulled, say you're sorry, and everything's going to be okay?"

"No, I didn—"

"Shut up," the older man snapped, then pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped at the right side of his jaw, revealing a faint bruise, still mostly purple but starting to turn green at the edges. "Do you see this? _You_ did that. It was no accident and a simple 'sorry' will not suffice."

Apprehensively, Nathan swallowed, the lump in his throat making it difficult. "I-I know that, sir. Th-That's wh-why I came in."

"What do you mean?" More suspicion, with a touch of wariness.

Slowly, hesitantly, Nathan made his way around the desk and dropped to his knees right next to Rotti. He made himself as small as possible without breaking the uneasy eye-contact he had with the older man. "I-I d-did a very bad thing, sir, and I'm s-so very, very sorry. I swear, I-I can be your good boy again."

"A very bad thing?" Rotti hissed. Snapping to Nathan, he grabbed the younger man by the throat. "An unauthorized kill is a very bad thing. Bringing in the wrong organs is a very bad thing. No, what you did was a very _stupid_ thing; I thought you knew better than to bite the hand that feeds you. You say you can be a good boy, but after you were such a disobedient one, how can I ever trust you again?"

His fingers tightened on Nathan's neck, making it difficult to breathe and the bruise on the side scream with pain.

"But," the older man continued thoughtfully, loosening his grip on the other's throat, "considering that you're here now… I guess that's a start. It's not enough though, Nathan."

"Wh-What can I do, sir? What d-do you want me to do?"

Rotti eyed the younger man for a long moment, then the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a small, malicious grin. Pushing away from his desk, he stood and headed for a door set in the wall behind him. Nathan felt the blood drain out of his face.

"Take your clothes off," the Largo patriarch called over his shoulder as he passed through the door.

Swiftly and shakily, Nathan obeyed, watching the door anxiously as he folded and stacked his clothes neatly. He waited for his next orders, tense and worried, listening intently. He just wanted it to be over. Unfortunately for him, knowing Rotti the way he did, it was going to be dragged out for as long as possible.

"Get in here, Nathan," came Rotti's voice after what felt like several long, _long_ hours but what was probably only a few minutes.

Finally. With a nervous swallow (despite the fact that his mouth was bone-dry), Nathan did as he was told, if slower than he wanted. His legs just didn't want to cooperate with him.

The searing fluorescent light blinded him for a moment when he passed through the door. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted and his vision cleared, then took a quick glance around the room. It was exactly as he remembered, though it had been years since he'd last set foot in it: medium-sized, tiled floor-to-ceiling in pristine white, and mostly empty except for a round, silver drain in the center, two heavy iron rings set in the floor about a yard apart not far from it, and a tall, broad stainless-steel cabinet set against the far wall. Nathan groaned silently. He thought he'd never have to be in here again.

Rotti was standing in the middle of the room, almost right over the drain, with a pair of handcuffs in one hand and a steel ring-no, a collar, a steel collar-in the other. He motioned for Nathan to come over to him with a jerk of his head. Obediently, the younger man complied, his head down and his shoulders scrunched. Goosebumps rose on his skin as the cold metal was wordlessly clamped around his neck. Moving around him, Rotti cuffed Nathan's hands behind his back, then put one of his own hands on the other's shoulder and pushed him to his knees.

Nathan's heart had started pounding when he heard the ratcheting sound of the cuffs closing. This was no game; there was no quick-release lever on the handcuffs, no safe word. He was here until Rotti said otherwise and would be subjected to whatever struck the older man's fancy.

"You know, I never thought we'd be back in this room," Rotti breathed in the younger man's ear, lightly stroking the back of his hair. "I missed it. You always were my favorite, Nathan; no one else ever screamed or cried or bled the way you did. I'm glad we're here again. Let's see if you've gotten better with age."

He gave Nathan a pat on the shoulder as he straightened, then walked over to and opened the cabinet. Leather and steel glinted and gleamed in the harsh light. As Rotti rifled through his equipment, the Repo man slunk into the room and sat on the floor where Nathan could see him, lounging against the wall with his hands laced behind his head and something caught between a smirk and a sneer on his face. That bastard, that voyeuristic bastard. He was going to watch what could be Nathan's utter destruction like it was as thing of beauty, wasn't he? Repo's brow furrowed in either annoyance or anger but he didn't say anything.

Rotti humphed.

"You know, I'm quite torn, Nathan," he said, turning around.

Something metal glinted in each hand as he approached the bound man. Nathan went white at the sight of the object in Rotti's left hand. Stopping just a few feet away from him, the older man held up his right hand, studying the item in it.

"I don't know what to start with. Should I lead with this?" He turned his hand and light flashed off the scalpel in it.

"Or this?"

He held up his other hand and eyed the electric prod lovingly. God, Nathan hated that prod. Granted, the scalpel wasn't pleasant either, but it wasn't as bad. Of course, if he had a choice, he'd say neither.

"What did you just say?" Rotti snarled.

It was in that moment that Nathan realized he'd said the word 'neither' out loud.

"N-No! I-I –"

He saw stars as Rotti struck him across the face with the prod, cutting the bridge of his nose and his left eyebrow. Blood dripped into his eye and down his nose.

"I wasn't asking you a question. Your opinion doesn't mean a damn thing, so keep your mouth shut or I'll close it for you." He pressed the prongs of the 'lectric prod against Nathan's throat. "Understood?"

The younger man nodded, the twin bits of metal scraping against his skin.

"Good."

Stars danced again and more pain tore through his already aching face. He shook his head and blinked, trying to clear the blinding blood out of his eye. Something cold touched his inner thigh, just above his right knee, and he froze. A quick glance clarified his situation: the tip of the cattle prod was pressed against his leg. Dread welled up in him as the potentially electrified steel started sliding up his leg and he flinched upward as it neared his groin.

"What's the matter?" Rotti taunted with a wicked chuckle as he scraped the prod over Nathan's balls before digging the prongs into the skin on the inside of his hip. "You never did like this thing, did you? Hated it, if I read the look in your eyes right."

It scraped over his stomach and chest, leaving twin lines of angry red on his torso before sticking under his chin and tipping his face upward.

"I, however, am rather fond of it. It's so wonderfully versatile, don't you think?"

He struck Nathan in the side of the head, leaving a small gash near his right temple.

"Of course, nothing's quite as effective as what it was made for."

The prongs slammed into Nathan's shoulder and electricity ripped through his body. It didn't last long, just a few seconds, but it was enough to leave him panting a little and his muscles twitching slightly. Rotti tipped the other's face upward with the prod again.

"Do you know how lucky you are, Nathan? If it had been anyone else who pulled that little stunt they would have been dead before they made it out of the building. I can't tell you how angry I was after you did that; I was actually considering having you killed."

He pressed the tines hard against the younger man's throat, to the point Nathan thought it might actually pierce his skin, then let up. Nathan's heart was pounding painfully against his ribs.

"I'm glad I didn't, though. And I find it almost, endearing, the way you came crawling back. Did you miss me?"

Nathan could tell this _was_ a question he was supposed to answer. He tried and found he couldn't; his tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. The taunting smirk on Rotti's face shifted into an angry snarl. Electricity tore though Nathan again, lasting longer than before. As it faded, he tasted blood.

"You will answer me when I speak to you," Rotti barked. "Am I understood?"

Nathan tried to reply, but his tongue was still frozen. Oh fuck, no, not again. He didn't know how long it lasted this time; just knew that when it stopped and the red started to clear from his vision he was lying on his side on the frigid tile, blood in his mouth, his muscles spasming, and his chest heaving. That dry, aloof part of him expressed some mild wonder at the fact that he hadn't pissed or shat himself.

_But then_, it noted, _that wouldn't be sexy, would it? God, we're surrounded by monsters._

The prod clattered to the floor next to his head and a hand wrapped itself in his hair, dragging him back to his knees. Nathan couldn't sit up straight; all he could manage was an exhausted slump with his head hanging and his eyes shut. He could feel the blood pouring from his mouth and running down his chin before dribbling to the floor as his tongue throbbed in pain where he bit it. The blood was hot and slick on his face, thick and overwhelming in his mouth, making every breath he took in filled with the taste and smell of copper and… Leather? It was faint, but, yes, it was there, and gave him a good indication of why his tongue was frozen.

_Why, why won't y-you let me, answer him?_ Nathan asked his other half silently, panting even in his thoughts. _You're, only going to make him angry, and this worse._

"Why won't I let you answer him?" the Repo man repeated in angry tones in Nathan's ear. "Because I won't give him the satisfaction of hearing you whimper and scream."

_You bastard._

Repo merely chuckled. The hand in Nathan's hair yanked his head back sharply.

"Look at me, Nathan," Rotti commanded.

With some difficulty (due to the pain tearing through his body and the intensity of the lights), Nathan obeyed. He had just enough time to see the anger on Rotti's face amplify, turning his scowl into a snarl, before being blinded by a blow to the face that sent blood gushing from his already battered nose with a faint crunch and his mind reeling. What the hell had just happened?

"Don't you _dare_ ever look at me like that again," the older man seethed, his own face now inches away from Nathan's.

Ah. He couldn't be positive of exactly what happened, but he had an idea. There must have been some spark of anger or spite in his eye, directed at either (depending on which it was) the Repo man or Nathan. Rotti must have seen it and assumed it was aimed at him.

"Arrogant prick," Repo snarled, shifting into a more comfortable position.

A heavy blow caught Nathan in the side of the head and knocked him sideways, sending him back to the floor. Landing hard on the tile, he hit his head and stars flashed before his eyes. Just as the spots started to fade, a shiny and rather expensive-looking shoe slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and making the stars return in greater force. He wheezed and coughed as he tried to regain his breath, blood spraying all over the floor from his mouth and nose. Through his swimming vision Nathan could see those gleaming, polished shoes shuffle back and forth: Rotti was pacing slightly, his heels clacking on the tile as he moved.

"I don't know what the hell's gotten into you lately, threatening me, not answering a _direct_ question, and the way you looked at me just now…"

Nathan's world exploded into bright colors again when one of those fine shoes rammed into his stomach, again. God, he couldn't breathe, and he feared that if Rotti kept going like this he might actually black out.

"You know better than that," Repo sneered from across the room. "You've been that bastard's plaything for how many years now? I'm sure he knows your limits by now. He wouldn't let that happen; it's not as much fun to play with something that can't squirm."

Nathan groaned mentally and sucked in a few ragged gulps of air before his breathing was hindered again, this time by the collar, the metal biting his skin as Rotti pulled him back to his knees with it. Coughing and wheezing, his throat and lungs burning, he closed his eyes and waited for his breathing to return to normal. Something cold and sharp pressed against the left side of his jaw, making his eyes snap back open. The blade of the scalpel was against his face, pressing hard enough to be noticed but not enough to cut, though if he moved it probably would have done so. Increased pressure on the knife urged his face to tip upward so that his eyes met Rotti's angry gaze.

"Do you think you're better than me, Nathan?" he sneered, running the blade lightly down the other's throat.

White-hot pain tore across Nathan's chest as the scalpel slashed his skin, leaving a thin, clean gash that was, luckily, shallow, if painful. The older man started circling the younger, light flashing off the steel in his hand. Nathan shivered when the cool metal slid across his shoulder blades.

"You do, don't you?" Rotti hissed, cutting the side of the other man's right shoulder. Nathan could feel the blood trickle down his arm, just like it was doing on his chest. "Why is that?"

Unable to force his jaw to work, the bound man simply looked at the floor, marveling at how shockingly red his blood was against the tile. All he could do was wait, wait for whatever Rotti was going to do to him next. The black shoes clacked back into his line of sight and a thick hand wrapped around his throat, tipping his face upward. Rotti sneered down at him.

"You son of a bitch," the older man snarled. "You're still going to play this game with me?"

_No! I'm not playing any sort of game!_

The Repo man chuckled. "It's not very nice when someone won't let you do what you want to, is it?"

_Fuck you!_

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Repo smirked. "Unfortunately for you, that's not likely to happen. All you're going to get is a lesson from me, via the fat man. Maybe you'll remember it so there won't have to be a next time."

Rotti's expression softened just a bit and he cocked his head to the side slightly.

"You know, I didn't consider something. Maybe it's not that you _won't_ answer me, but that you _can't._ Let's find out; I have been awfully rough and I'd hate to have broken you and not realized it." He ran the flat of the blade over the younger man's lower lip gently, almost lovingly. "Can you open your mouth?"

It wasn't easy, but Nathan managed to do so, if only a little. The scalpel slid between his parted lips and forced his mouth open farther by pressing the side against his lower teeth.

"I see," Rotti mused, teasing Nathan's tongue with the sharp edge of the blade before taking the scalpel out of his mouth, letting the point trail over his lip and down his chin as he did so. "You can close your mouth now."

Before Nathan could do that, bright pain blazed across his chest again in a line that intersected the first, making him suck in a quiet gasp. Another slash cut the front of his left shoulder, then the scalpel found its way to his throat, settling right above his collarbone, against the lower edge of the collar. Nathan could feel his heart thundering, sending fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Really, Nathan, I _should_ kill you right here and now," Rotti snarled, digging the blade deeper into the other man's skin. Nathan felt blood ooze from the underneath the knife. "It would serve you right, you conceited bastard."

He let up on the pressure, which let much more blood well out of the gash and seep down the younger man's chest. Nathan knew better than to feel relieved. Rotti enjoyed toying with people, liked to see the disappointment in their eyes when they realized their ordeal was going to continue, and probably for a very, very long time. Far longer than they wanted.

"But I won't; not yet in any case. I like having you around too much. That and no one else is as good at this job as you are. But," the older man snarled, reapplying pressure on the knife and digging it into the other's skin again. "I will knock the haughtiness out of you."

The blade suddenly left Nathan's neck and a kick caught him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He doubled over, gasping and wheezing.

"What the hell makes you think you're better than me?" the other man spat, grabbing Nathan's collar and forcing him to straighten.

Though his vision was blurry, Nathan could see the light flash off of the scalpel only a few inches away from his face before pain sliced across his chest again, higher up this time, close to his left collarbone. Rotti started pacing again, his free hand clenching and unclenching as he moved.

"Is it because you're taller? Thinner? Younger?"

He lashed out as he passed Nathan, slashing the left side of his jaw. Stopping abruptly, the older man grabbed the younger's throat and forced his battered face up to meet his angry glare.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that _my_ Marni had _your_ child, would it?"

Nathan felt rather than saw the Repo man shift out of his casual lounge and into a predatory crouch, like a big cat ready to pounce.

"Weigh your next words carefully," the dark thing said in a throaty growl that was even rougher than his normal voice.

"That's it, isn't it?" Rotti sneered. "Well let me tell you something."

He kicked the younger man in the face, hard enough to knock him backwards. Nathan hit the floor heavily, his skull bouncing off the tile and the air whooshing out of his lungs yet again. Pain shooting through him, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to simply breathe. Blood was flowing afresh from his mouth and nose.

"You wouldn't even have your precious little Shilo if it weren't for that pity-fuck Marni gave you," he heard Rotti spit from somewhere high above his head.

The older man stepped on the side of the younger's face, grinding his cheek into the tile. Nathan felt like his head was in a vise.

"And that's exactly what it was: pity," he sneered, twisting his foot back and forth like someone crushing out a cigarette. "What else could it be but pity for sad, shy Nathan Wallace? There's no other reason she would have gone to you when I gave her everything she ever wanted, would have laid the world at her feet if she asked for it. Compared to me, you're nothing."

A faint, high-pitched beeping sounded and the pressure left Nathan's face. He opened his eyes as it stopped and found Rotti checking his watch. It was a real watch, not one of these lifeless bits of silicon, and a pocket watch at that, cast in elegantly patterned gold.

"Damn," he growled, snapping his watch shut and returning it to his pocket before walking back over the open cabinet. "I've got an appointment in about ten minutes, so I'm going to have to leave you here. But don't worry, I'll be back."

"Oh, yes, _that's_ what we were worried about," Repo snarled, still in his predatory crouch and watching Rotti move back over to Nathan.

The older man slipped a little and spat an angry curse. Carefully, he lifted first one foot, followed by the other as he examined the bottoms of his shoes, then propped the left one on its heel next to Nathan's face.

"Look at this," he snarled. "_Your_ blood all over _my_ very expensive shoes. Be a good boy and lick it off."

Nathan just stared at the blood-splattered sole for a moment, then wriggled closer and started licking, just like he was told to. It tasted horrible, and he wasn't entirely sure just how clean it was actually getting, considering that blood was still oozing from his mouth, but, he supposed, the cleanliness wasn't what really mattered, the fact that he was doing what his master told him did. Rotti switched feet and Nathan cleaned the other shoe to the best of his ability.

"That's a good boy," the older man said, kneeling down next the other's head. "Maybe there's hope for you after all."

Something fluttered in Nathan's chest, an emotion he couldn't quite name, as Rotti clipped a sturdy-looking chain to his collar, then shifted and fastened the other end to one of the iron rings in the floor. Urging Nathan to roll onto his side, Rotti uncuffed him and stood back up. A swift kick to the kidneys made Nathan groan softly as Rotti left the room, his heels clacking on the tile.

Curled up on his side, Nathan heard the door shut with a quiet click. There was another faint click followed by a _whoosh,_ and then icy water was pelting his skin, making him shiver and curl up tighter. As if he wasn't already in agony, the cold water on top of the cuts and bruises made him want to die. He started to cry quietly.

"You hate yourself right now, don't you?" the Repo man asked, now crouched a foot or so in front of his other half, water running down his face and plunking dully on his leather coat. "Hate yourself for what you did, for how happy it made you when he called you a good boy."

Nathan turned his face to the floor, his tears mingling with the blood and water that was already streaming across it. "Shut up. And leave me alone."

Repo put his hand gently on his other half's shoulder. "Don't you get that shit like this is what happens when I leave you alone? Look at you, you're chained to the floor, naked, bleeding, and cold. If you would have let me help –"

"Help?" Nathan laughed weakly and shook his head. "You don't help; you just make things worse. I don't want your 'help' anymore."

"Well you don't have much of a choice," Repo spat, snatching his hand away. "You're stuck with me."

"Lucky me," Nathan grumbled as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

He slipped a little on the slick tile and felt hands grasp his hips to steady him. Snapping his attention behind him, he saw the Repo man grinning at him, gloved hands gripping his bare hips.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nathan spat.

"Well," his dark half began, "it _is_ later and there's nothing urgent you need to attend to…"

"Except for what's in your pants, right?" he snarled over his shoulder when he felt something stiff poke his rump.

Repo smirked and ran a hand over the other's back. "Clever boy. You learn fast."

"Yeah, well, as _grateful_ as I am for the praise, there's no way in hell I'm doing anything with you, especially not right now," Nathan snapped, pulling out of Repo's grasp.

Unfortunately for him, he must have pulled too hard and he lost his traction, making him fall flat on his face. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and covered his aching face with his hands. Great, as if his face didn't hurt like hell already. And if this damn water would just stop he might be able to get some rest and recuperate some before Rotti came back. But then, he realized, even if it did stop, there was still the Repo man to contend with.

"'Contend with'. You make it sound so terrible," Repo whispered with a soft, breathy laugh in Nathan's ear, running a hand lightly across the other man's chest. "You don't have to fight me, you know."

Nathan uncovered his face and glared up at the Repo man, who was on his hands and knees over him. Leaning down, he started nibbling at his other half's earlobe.

"Your life would be so much easier if you just gave in. Hell, you don't even have to do that; we could work together. We _do_ both want the same things."

"What? No!" Nathan protested, trying to push his dark half off of him.

Repo grabbed the other's wrists and slammed them against the floor next to his head, pulling away so he could look the pinned man in the eye.

"You can't fight me forever. Each day you lose more and more control, and I find it. I feel it, you feel it, and it terrifies you." He grinned wickedly. "And excites you."

"N-No!" Nathan objected.

"Yes," Repo hissed. "You like the way I make you feel, in every way. Like when I do something like this."

He ground his crotch against Nathan's, making him gasp.

"Or when I take control. As much as you bitch about it, you like _that_ very much. It makes you feel free, and powerful. Yes, you like everything I do for you, and to you, and one of these days you'll come crawling to me, begging for it. What, I'm not entirely sure of; it could be nothing, could be everything. Only time will tell. And, being a very patient man," he said, sliding off of Nathan and sitting next to him, "I'll wait."

Free to move now, Nathan sat up as well, wrapping his arms around his knees as he looked at the dark thing curiously. "Does that mean you'll stop hounding me?"

"To a degree, yes. For now. And you should know that even patient men have their limits," Repo told his other half, not deigning to look at him.

"I see," Nathan said quietly as he wrapped himself tighter, not sure if this was a good thing or a bad one.

Shivering, he watched the water go down the drain, tinged red with his own blood. He tugged a little at his collar, trying to settle it into a more comfortable position. That wasn't easy, near impossible, considering he was pretty sure that there wasn't a part of him that wasn't in misery. Well, maybe a few follicles of hair.

There was another barely-audible click and the water stopped. Oh thank God. Giving his head a small shake, Nathan ran a hand through his hair and then down his face gingerly, wincing despite his care. He wanted to stretch, to loosen and warm and perhaps soothe his stiff, aching muscles, but he was just so damn cold he didn't want to move. A nap sounded nice, buried under a thick comforter in his soft, warm bed with his soft, warm daughter in his arms, preferably na—

The Repo man turned to look at him curiously as he cut off the thought.

"Turned that into a post-coital nap, did we?" his double said with a simper. "Can't say I blame you; at least that's a good, satisfied ache. Not like this I-feel-like-I've-been-run-over-by-a-bus kind."

"Wh- I- No, I didn't do that," Nathan stammered, blushing a little. "I don't know what gave you that idea."

"Oh, please, I know where that thought ended. Why don't you go ahead and finish it for me, though?"

"No."

"Do it," Repo snarled. "And I wanna hear you say it out-loud. 'Preferably—'"

"Naked, damp, and exhausted," Nathan said, out-loud, just like Repo wanted.

"Well, I see you've found your voice," Rotti said, suddenly behind Nathan and scaring the daylights out of him. "And I'd say you summed up your situation pretty well. Of course, you forgot about chained, bruised, and bleeding." He tugged at the other's collar, much to his sorrow. "I just hope you're not too worn out; I'm not quite finished with you."

Unclasping the chain from Nathan's collar, Rotti pulled the younger man to his feet using the ring of steel around his neck. Nathan groaned inwardly. God, he could barely move, he was so stiff. Repo chuckled.

"Funny, I don't think you're the only one who's stiff," he breathed in his other half's ear.

Rotti grabbed the other man 'round the jaw and turned him to face his master.

"So. You've had time to sit and think," Rotti sneered. "Do you think you can behave from now on?"

Nathan nodded and Rotti tightened his grip on the other's jaw, making him suck in a pained gasp.

"I can't hear you, Nathan."

"Yes, sir," Nathan practically barked.

With a quiet, smug smile, Rotti gave the younger man a firm pat on the cheek. "That's a good boy. Now, I want you to go wait by my desk while I put things away in here."

The older man let loose of his jaw and Nathan slunk back out into the office, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the lower light. He hovered near the chair, not sure where exactly he was expected to be, and did the only thing he could do: wait. Waiting seemed to be one of the instruments of choice today in his torture.

There came the sound of the door closing and, turning, Nathan caught sight of Rotti approaching him and he made himself as small as possible while still standing. A simple point from his master as he pulled the chair way out was all the bruised and bleeding man needed. He dropped carefully to his pained knees between the desk and the chair, closer to the former than the latter, as Rotti sat down and slid close to Nathan, near enough that the front of the seat was almost touching his chest. The younger man swallowed dryly.

Lightly stroking the back of Nathan's hair with one hand, Rotti used the other to undo his pants and pull his already-hard cock out of them. His fingers tightened in the younger man's hair, urging him toward his crotch. Not that Nathan needed the encouragement. He knew what was expected of him, knew at least part of what was going to happen the instant he was ordered to his knees. And he was a good boy, an obedient boy.

He gave his master a few long, shiver-inducing licks on the head of his penis before dutifully taking it into his mouth. He heard Rotti groan softly and felt him shift a little, undoubtedly tipping his head back and closing his eyes as the younger man worked on his erection, bobbing along the length and teasing the sensitive underside with his tongue. The hand at the back of Nathan's head loosened its grip, instead working fingers through his hair, not commanding or forcing but merely serving as a warning to not pull too far away. Of course, years and years of training had taught Nathan not to do that.

"God, Nathan," Rotti groaned, breathing a bit more heavily now. "Why the hell do I ever let you go home? I should have you chained under my desk for this very purpose."

Luckily for him, the question was of a rhetorical bent, considering he couldn't really answer around a mouthful of cock, but the statement did make him just the teensiest bit proud. The years had, perhaps more importantly, taught him how to please his master, and he was damn good at it. He knew exactly what to do: how much pressure to apply and when, where to touch with the tip of his tongue to make Rotti moan. Like this one spot in particular that if he hit just… like… _this…_

Three things happened simultaneously when Nathan did that: Rotti let out a surprised gasp, the hand at the back of his head retightened, pulling his hair a little, and a spurt of pre hit the back of Nathan's throat and nearly made him choke. The older man was puffing a bit now, his hips twitching upward slightly as the younger started moving faster, swirling his tongue around the shaft as he moved and –

Then he was being pulled away from the cock he was servicing. Confused, he looked from the taut, saliva-slick flesh to Rotti's face and back.

"Oh, Nathan, you really are such a good boy," the older man panted as he looked at the other, stroking his hair. A small smile flickered across his lips. "If a very messy one."

He ran a forefinger over Nathan's chin, wiping off some of the combined fluids that had dribbled there, then stuck the digit in the younger man's mouth. Nathan obediently licked the finger clean.

"However, there's another thing I need you to do for me," he went on, his hand moving to grip the base of his dick. "I need you to sit for me."

Nathan swallowed nervously. There was no question as to where he would be sitting. Slowly, awkwardly, he pulled himself to his feet and, with Rotti's hand on his hip coaxing him, turned around. Grabbing hold of the other's collar, Rotti pulled him back and down.

"**Sit**," he commanded.

Hands gripping the arms of the chair for support, Nathan let himself be positioned and pulled into the older man's lap, whimpering softly as he slid haltingly onto the waiting erection. The entry was a bit rough considering neither man was as lubricous as he should be, but as it was it hurt Nathan a hell of a lot more than it hurt Rotti. Another whimper escaped him as he came flush with the other's lap. His pants were surprisingly soft against his bare thighs.

"What an incredibly random observation," the Repo man, who was now seated on the desk, drawled dryly.

_Not right now!_ Nathan snapped.

"I'm sorry; should I not be talking to you while you're fucking your master?" Repo sneered sarcastically. "Am I distracting you?"

_Ye- N- Just, l-leave me the hell alone,_ his other half stammered. _I don't want to deal with you right—_

A hard cuff caught Nathan in the side of the head.

"Dammit, boy, I know you know better than to just sit there," Rotti spat.

"Yes, sir; sorry, sir," Nathan said quickly.

Fingers tightening on the arms of the chair, he slowly started upward, stopping when he felt a tug on his entrance. He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, and let himself slide downward just as slowly, stifling a groan. It still hurt like hell and was only compounded by the aches and pains everywhere else in his body. Not that his discomfort mattered; he was expected to do something and he was going to do it whether he liked it or not, so, despite all of it, he clamped down on Rotti as he started sliding upward again, making his master shudder and groan.

Nathan endeavored to stay tight as he moved, up and down, not too fast and not too slow. He felt Rotti's hand run over his back as he murmured words of encouragement in between grunts and exclamations of pleasure. The younger man was panting and sweating from the effort, fresh blood trickling down his skin from wounds reopened by the exertion. Thick hands closed over his hips and Rotti started thrusting up to meet him, making him choke down a moan. As much as he would deny it should anyone ask him, Nathan _was_ enjoying this, just like he always did, even though this wasn't as good as with the Re—

Rotti slammed into Nathan's prostate, making the younger man let out a loud cry of mostly pleasure as every one of his muscles jumped.

"What was that?" the older man asked. Nathan could hear the smug smirk in his voice.

He couldn't help but moan a soft "oh" before finding his own voice. "N-Nothing, sir," Nathan stammered.

Rotti chuckled and slid a hand around to grasp Nathan's erection, fondling it as it slid between his fingers. "Go ahead and moan, Nathan; we both know how much you're enjoying this," he said. "Faggot."

"Says the fat fuck with his dick in another man's ass," Repo snorted. "Fucking hypocrite."

His other half ignored him and simply moaned, long and low, arching his back and closing his eyes as an amplified tingle of pleasure spread through him. Rotti's hand moved back to Nathan's hip and he pressed into the younger man even more, steadily picking up pace. After a moment, a gloved hand smacked Nathan on the cheek, making his eyes snap open. He glared at the Repo man, who jerked his head back toward the elevator. Annoyed, Nathan turned his attention to the lift in time to see the doors slide open and he froze mid-down stroke.

"Hey, pops, new report just came in from accounting," Luigi Largo announced as he stepped off the elevator and walked through his father's office, absorbed in the papers on a clipboard that he was flipping through.

Rotti barked a curse and pulled Nathan back fully into his lap before pushing him down and to the side, twisting his torso so that he was practically draped over the left arm of the chair while still being impaled on his master's erection. Still oblivious to everything around him, Luigi came to a stop just in front of his father's desk.

"What do you want?" the older Largo growled.

"Just wanted to bring you the new report, hot off the presses," Luigi said, finally looking up from the sheets with a proud grin, which faded into a look of confusion as he took in the scene before him.

"Leave it on the desk," Rotti ordered, ignoring the way his son was looking at him.

The Largo boy didn't respond right away. Nathan, staring at the floor, felt Luigi's eyes sweep over him and he turned red with embarrassment.

"Is there something you want?" Rotti barked, irritated.

"What? No, I, I just wanted to give you the report," his son stammered, quickly setting the clipboard on the desk. His eyes kept flicking to Nathan and he shifted awkwardly, quickly making what he clearly hoped was a sly adjustment to his groin.

"Are you sure there's nothing you want?" Luigi nodded. "Then why do you keep looking at Nathan?"

"What?" the Largo boy spluttered. "Wh-Why would I be looking at Wallace?"

"Well I don't know, that's why I asked you," Rotti sneered as he ran a hand over Nathan's back before falling silent for several moments. "You want him, don't you?"

Luigi suddenly looked like a boy who'd just been caught with a dirty magazine. "Wh- No, I-"

Rotti cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I don't appreciate being lied to."

"I-I'm sorry, Dad," Luigi apologized meekly.

"It's all right, nothing to be ashamed of. We all want to fuck a pathetic bitch sometimes." Rotti gave the edge of the desk in front of him a pat. "Come have a seat."

The stunned look on his son's face matched the one on the Repo man's. Dumbfounded and slightly embarrassed, Luigi awkwardly came around the desk and sat uncomfortably on the edge. Rotti grabbed Nathan's collar and forced him to straighten.

"Come on," he said, nudging the younger man, "we're standing up."

Once they reached their feet, Rotti staying inside the other man as they moved, Nathan was pushed forward so that his face was inches away from Luigi's crotch, his hand gripping the desk on either side of the younger man for support. The thick hand left his collar and trailed lightly along his spine before gripping his hip.

"You know, he's awful grope-y for a straight guy," Repo commented from beside the younger Largo.

"Don't worry," Rotti reassured his son as he slowly started moving inside his employee, "Nathan will take good care of you. Won't you, Nathan?"

"Yes, sir," Nathan said obediently as he played his part, nuzzling Luigi's crotch. "Shall I undo your pants for you, sir, or would you rather do it yourself?"

Wordlessly, Luigi quickly undid his trousers, fumbling a little with the fastenings, and pulled out his erection. He may not have been as big as Nathan, but the boy was no slouch. The battered man was a bit apprehensive; it had been a while since he and Luigi had, well, never mind. None of that mattered now, only pleasing his master did. Well, his masters.

Hesitantly, Nathan's tongue slunk out and ran slowly along the underside of Luigi's penis, earning him a groaned "Oh, fuck". Gaining confidence, he brushed his lips gently against the side of the length before letting his tongue tease the other's skin again, trailing lightly over the sensitive flesh and tracing the distended veins. Luigi moaned, growing louder when Nathan's deft tongue curled around the head of his cock and pulled it into his mouth. Nathan's hand came up to caress the exposed skin as he started to work, moving fairly slowly, steadily and inch-by-fraction-of-an-inch engulfing more and more of the younger man's dick with every down stroke until the tip was bumping the back of his throat. If he shifted just a little…

"Oh, God-fucking-damn!" Luigi practically screamed as he slipped into the tight confines of Nathan's throat.

It wasn't long before Luigi grabbed the back of Nathan's hair, keeping him steady as he thrust furiously in and out of that tight throat. Trapped, Nathan couldn't do anything besides hold on for dear life and breathe when he was able to while making sure he pleased both of his masters as well as he could, staying tight around the older and working his tongue over the younger. Not that they were doing anything for him; both Largos were on different rhythms, causing Luigi to occasionally gag him and Rotti to hit his insides painfully at times, not to mention that his leaking erection was untouched. Of course, they weren't here for his benefit; he was here for theirs.

He felt the both of them speed up, not entirely sure how Luigi, whose movements had become short and jerky and punctuated by loud groans, managed to pick up the pace. There was an even louder groan as the younger Largo stiffened. Abruptly, the cock left Nathan's throat and then something hot and sticky splattered across his face, stinging something fierce in his cuts. He groaned.

"You, you liked, sucking my dick, didn't you?" Luigi said in between pants, his hand still massaging his cock. He gave Nathan a strike on his cheek that was too gentle to be a slap and too rough to be a pat. "You're such a, fag, Wallace."

His father laughed softly before hooking a hand over Nathan's bruised shoulder and taking him even harder. Nathan moaned as he lapped at the younger man's cock, cleaning him and feeling him twitch from the warm tongue on skin made hypersensitive from orgasm. That prickling heat started spreading through his battered body and he moaned louder.

"Nathan, Nathan look at me," Rotti commanded roughly.

Obediently, the other man did so, looking over his shoulder at his master through half-closed eyes. Rotti barked a "Fuck!" and thrust hard once, twice, thrice as he spilled into Nathan, striking the younger man's prostate each time and making him cry out loudly with every stroke. Panting, his knuckles white from his grip on the desk, Nathan felt that hot tingle fade and he groaned silently. Damn, he'd been so close, too; just one more stroke would have sent him over the edge. The disappointment must have shown on his face.

"What's the matter, Nathan?" Rotti asked, breathing hard and rubbing the other's aching back with the hand that had been on his shoulder. "You can't be too upset; you know the rule: bitches don't get to come. Unless, of course, they beg."

"Don't you even fucking think about it," Repo snarled warningly from his vantage point on the desk. "Haven't you done enough to debase us already without adding begging to the list?"

Rotti leaned down next to Nathan's ear, letting his hand wander near the other's crotch and listening to him whimper. "Are you going to beg for me?" He brushed his fingers lightly against the younger man's erection, making him moan loudly. "You know you want it; don't you?"

"Y-yes, sir, I-I want it," Nathan gasped. "P-Please, sir, I n-need it."

Rotti chuckled as he pulled away some. Nathan heard what sounded like someone spitting and then the elder Largo's hand was on his cock, gripping firmly and stroking rapidly. Panting and moaning, he could feel his release build up, all hot and tense and tingly, and he closed his eyes and arched his back, thrusting into Rotti's deftly manipulating fingers. It wasn't long before Nathan came with a long, loud groan as his climax crashed down on him hard, starting as an explosion in his brain and spreading through the rest of him like wildfire, leaving in its wake a sense of relief and exhaustion. He had to fight to stay on his feet as he rode the waves of his orgasm, panting heavily and his head down.

"Oh, fuck, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" Rotti growled, shuddering a little.

Nathan felt the older man shift, pulling out of him, followed by something damp trickling down over his balls and along the insides of his thighs. "Y-Yes, sir. A-and th-thank you, sir."

"You're welcome," Rotti said with a chuckle, giving the other a firm smack on his sore ass. Nathan let out a soft, pained whimper at that. "See? I'm not such a bad master when you behave; I take care of good boys. Speaking of which, you must be tired. I laid a blanket by the door to the room; you can go lie down for a while if you want."

"Thank you, sir, I think I will," Nathan said softly with a quiet, grateful smile as he stiffly straightened and shuffled awkwardly away.

The blanket wasn't much, little more than a thin and ugly scrap of fabric tossed carelessly on the floor, but it would help keep the cold coming from tile from seeping into his aching body. Doing his best to keep from simply collapsing onto the blanket, Nathan sank down onto the rough cloth and curled up on his side, his back to the wall. A soft groan escaped him. He was so tired. His eyes drifted shut as he listened to father and son talk.

"Oh, fuck, pops, that was, that was amazing," he heard Luigi say. "I don't know if I've ever had a blowjob as good as that one."

"Nathan really is something else, isn't he?" Rotti replied, a touch of pride in his voice.

"Oh yeah. I'm just a little disappointed I didn't get to try out his other end. If that ass is anything like his mouth…"

Rotti chuckled. "It's better."

"Really?" There was silence for a few moments. "Can, can I try him now?"

Oh, please no. Nathan didn't think he could take another round, not right now. Everything was quiet for a few minutes.

"No," the older man eventually told his son, "not right now. There's something you need to learn, Luigi, and that's self-control. Nathan may be a delight to fuck but he's still a GeneCo employee and as such there are business-related tasks he needs to complete, which he can't do if he's unable to walk. It's alright to have you fun provided you remember that you're still running a business; what I'm going to do is let him rest a bit before sending him out on an assignment. Do you understand what I'm doing?"

"Yes, Father," Luigi ceded, sounding like a child who just agreed to having only one piece of cake instead of three.

Nathan heaved a silent sigh of relief.

"No need to sound so disappointed," Rotti said. "There's always next time."

"N-Next time? Y-You mean we can do this again?"

Those same words were echoed in Nathan's head, only instead of excitement the tone was panic and the word "can" was replaced by "going to". That was something he sincerely hoped was not going to happen. He heard Luigi continue on, talking about how hot it was when he came on Nathan's face and how good he looked covered in the Largo boy's seed, how much he was looking forward to hearing Nathan whimper and moan like a "faggot bitch" when the younger man fucked him and how much more Nathan was going to like next time compared to this one.

The battered man started to protest mentally at that then stopped, realizing what he'd done and just how much he _had_ enjoyed servicing both Largos. Oh dear God, what was wrong with him? Hot tears squeezed out from under his closed lids, stinging like hell as they ran across his face. He shouldn't be doing things like that, let alone enjoying them. It wasn't that it was with another man (well, men) or that he'd essentially been degraded (if all truth was to be told, he rather got off on that part); it was that, despite the fact that she'd been dead for years and years, it always felt like he was cheating on Marni, even when he was on his own. Of course, that ever-present notion that he should feel nothing but pain didn't help to make him feel any better.

_**And what would Shilo think if she knew what you'd done?**_

Shilo. He hadn't thought about that. She would probably lose all respect for her father. That is, if he was lucky and she didn't outright hate him for the things he'd done. No, he could never let that happen, nor let her find out what he _really_ did for a living nor how her mother actually died.

_**Monster.**_

He could feel the tears flowing even more. A strong arm wrapped around Nathan and pulled him back against a broad, leather-clad chest, making him tense.

"Easy now," Repo murmured, his breath puffing against his other half's ear. "I don't want anything like that from you; I just don't want you going down that road. Again."

_**Liar.**_

"Hey, shut it, bitch," Repo snarled. "I'm just here for support and comfort."

_Support and comfort? _Nathan asked, confused and skeptical. _What the hell kind of games are you playing?_

Repo nuzzled the other's neck. "No games. Why do you keep forgetting everything I tell you? When you hurt mentally, I hurt, so really it's quite selfish. I'm tired and don't feel like getting torn to shreds right now. Granted, I never feel like getting torn to shreds, but that's beside the point. Also, I'd like to walk out of here, not crawl, so, just, stop beating yourself up and rest."

_Bu-_

"Shh, no buts," Repo said softly, stroking Nathan's hair gently before pulling him tighter. "Sleep. Don't worry; I won't let anything happen to you."

Still apprehensive, Nathan gradually let himself relax. He laid there for a while, feeling his dark half's warm breath on the back of his neck, and eventually drifted off to sleep; after, of course, making sure the Repo man really wasn't up to anything. His sleep was fitful, filled with scattered dreams of soft, pale flesh and long black hair, quiet moans and gentle fingers on his skin.

It took him a moment to realize that there really _were_ fingers gently touching his skin. Nathan woke with a start and jerked away from the person touching him.

"Who, who the hell are you?" he asked suspiciously, staring at the newcomer, who was crouched over him.

From what he could tell, she was about the same age as Shilo, maybe a little older, and tall, lean, and tomboyish with short black hair and piercing blue eyes. A faint bruise, nearly healed, circled one of them. Her outstretched hands dropped.

"Take it easy, pal, Mr. Largo sent me," the girl told him. "Name's Tonya."

Nathan's eyes narrowed. "And you want what?"

"I don't _want_ anything. I'm just here to clean and patch you up like Mr. Largo asked." She gestured to a bowl of water with a washcloth in it, another cloth folded up next to it, and a smallish leather medical kit.

"You're not a –"

"Gentern?" Tonya snorted in contempt. "Fuck no. I may do an unofficial sort of internship here but I ain't one of those skanky hoes. You wouldn't catch me dead dressed like that."

Wringing out the cloth that had been in the bowl, she brought it close to Nathan's face and he flinched backward.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

The girl sighed in annoyance. "I already told you, I'm going to wash you up and stitch up what needs it. Don't worry; I know what I'm doing."

"I see. And just what were you doing when I was asleep?"

"Really?" Tonya snapped, her irritation growing. "What? Do you think I was molesting you or something? All I was doing was seeing how bad everything was considering it didn't look like you were going to be waking up anytime soon."

"Oh."

"Oh is right. Now hold still."

Nathan did so as she began wiping the grime off of his face, starting at his forehead and working her way down to his cheekbones, jawline, mouth. The latter she seemed to linger on, but that was probably just Nathan's imagination playing tricks on him. Despite how gently she was touching him, he inadvertently winced whenever she reached a particularly tender spot.

"Damn," the girl said, dabbing softly at the swollen bridge of Nathan's nose, "he really worked you over good, didn't he?"

"Yes," Nathan replied with a pained hiss, which turned into a yelp when she ever-so-gently squeezed his nose.

"Well, the good news is I don't think your nose is broken," Tonya told him, rinsing and wringing out the washcloth before moving on to his neck. "Somehow."

Nathan managed a thin, humorless smile. "Just lucky, I guess."

It wasn't until the girl moved to his chest-after first getting the blood off of his right arm-that he realized that he wasn't wearing the metal collar anymore. Rotti must have taken it off while he was out, and he clearly been way out; none of the jostling had disturbed him in the slightest. Tonya snorted.

"If you want to call it that," she said, watching the hand that was meticulously (the delusional part of Nathan's brain would have said sensuously) running the damp cloth over Nathan's chest. "I mean, I've seen worse, but not much worse."

Beside him, the Repo man was practically purring. "Mmm, that's nice. We should get your girl to do this for us."

"You must have really pissed Mr. Largo off," Tonya went on. "What the hell did you do?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Nathan replied, beginning to feel a bit nervous as she started on his stomach.

"What? This?" The girl motioned toward her bruised eye with her free hand. "No, my old man gave me that. And don't give me those sad, puppy-dog eyes. You shoulda seen what I did to him."

The words sank in, making pity and concern for this girl well up in him. "Do you, do you and your father fight often?"

Tonya threw the washcloth on the floor angrily. "What the fuck is this, a therapy session? Yeah, we fight a lot, big fucking deal. We didn't used to, but ever since we moved to this island and Dad… Well, I guess you could say he's got a drug problem, but really the problem is when he _doesn't_ have his Z."

Nathan propped himself up on his elbows. "That's awful," he said softly. "Daddies aren't supposed to hurt their little girls; they're supposed to protect them."

Picking up the second washcloth, Tonya dipped it in the bowl of water. "Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a little girl. I can take care of myself."

He caught her hand as she brought the new cloth close to him. "You shouldn't have to."

"It's a little late for that," she snarled, jerking her hand out of his. "Besides, I got a good thing going here: I work, learn stuff, and Mr. Largo lets me stay here if I can't go home. Now, if you're done feeling sorry for me…"

Startled by her suddenness, Nathan jumped a little when the warm, damp cloth touched the inside of his right thigh. His heart nervously racing just a little, he watched her hand warily ("I think you mean intently," the Repo man stated) as she carefully cleaned him. He wasn't surprised to see that the white terrycloth had turned reddish with blood as Tonya moved on to his other leg, still as gentle as possible. Her hand sliding closer to his groin, he felt his breath start to grow shallow and a hot tingle run through him. What the hell? He wasn't enjoying this, was he? Not like _that_…

Nathan groaned quietly when the girl touched his crotch with the damp cloth. She worked slowly, taking a long time to clean his groin, far longer than she probably needed to, making him writhe a little as he fought to keep from physically reacting.

"D-Don't you th-think I-I'm clean enough?" Nathan stammered, panting slightly.

"What? Oh, yeah," Tonya replied, blushing and quickly snatching her hand away from him. "Sorry, I-I wasn't paying attention."

"Paying too much attention is more like it," Repo commented with a chuckle as the girl, still red, turned and started rummaging through the leather medical kit. "What is it with you and pretty young things with daddy issues? Not that I'm complaining; just making an observation."

_What are you talking about?_ Nathan snapped, watching Tonya as well.

"Come on, pretty much every young girl with daddy issues from here to the real world and every 'verse in between fucking drools over you. That one there," he nodded to the girl, "would do you right here on the floor if you made the first move."

_Wh- No, I think you're misreading signs again. She's embarrassed about having to see a man old enough to be her father naked, that's all,_ Nathan replied, ignoring the comment about 'verses, whatever the hell Repo was talking about.

Finding what she was looking for, Tonya turned back to Nathan, Zydrate gun in hand. He caught sight of the blue glow, grabbed her hand as she bought the gun near his shoulder, and shook his head.

"No" was all Nathan said, his tone stern.

"Bu—"

"**No**," he repeated even more firmly.

The girl stared at him for a moment then, with a shrug, returned the gun to her kit and pulled out a small pair of scissors, a surgical needle, and suture thread. "Whatever, I guess; it's you're body. It's gonna hurt like hell, though."

That thin, humorless smile flickered across his face again. "I think I'll be all right."

"Oh, I fucking hate you, you masochistic son of a bitch," Repo snarled with a pained hiss as Tonya started stitching up the long gashes on Nathan's chest.

His other half didn't respond, simply gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the needle in his chest. It felt like it took forever; understandable considering that there were three long cuts on his chest and another shorter, if deeper, one on the lower left side of his throat. _That_ one was a special kind of hell for some reason. Finishing up her last stitch, Tonya snipped and tied off the thread before returning her instruments to the kit. She then carefully dabbed the traces of blood off his skin and bandaged all of his wounds.

Nathan caught her hand a third time as she applied the last bandage. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Just doing my job," Tonya replied, just as soft.

"That's no way to thank someone, especially one who took such good care of you," Repo growled quietly in his other half's ear. "Here, let me show you."

A chill spread through Nathan and he felt his left hand quickly hook around the girl's neck and pull her close so that he could kiss her, doing so surprisingly gently considering that the Repo man was the one in control. She made a soft, surprised sound before kissing him back and Repo growled, making the kiss more aggressive. Nathan couldn't help but notice how soft her lips were against his, how close she was to him and how easy it would be to-

No.

It took everything he had, but he managed to push her away, turning from her and blushing. "I-I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah, I, I should be going anyway," the girl stammered, swiftly packing up her med kit. "Oh, and Mr. Largo wanted me to give you this."

Tonya pulled something out of the leather box and handed it to Nathan. It was an envelope, a real one, with his name written across the front in Rotti's flowing hand, and from the feel of it there was a sheet of real paper inside. He started to say something, looking up from the envelope in his hand, but the girl was already halfway out of the office and he didn't think he had the strength to yell. Nathan watched her a moment before returning his attention to the packet.

"I can't believe you let her get away," Repo growled in annoyance, still watching the way she'd gone.

Nathan threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure the room was empty. "And what did you want me to do?"

"Did you really just ask that question?" Repo inquired, giving his other half a slightly disbelieving look.

"All right, I know what you wanted me to do. I'm just, I'm tired, okay?" Nathan shot back, carefully opening the envelope.

Repo snorted. "Cowardly is more like it."

The other ignored him as he pulled the page out. The Repo man shifted a little so he could read over his shoulder.

_ Nathan,_

_ I'm sure by now Tonya has fixed you up and is well on her way. (The girl is good at the surgical aspects of the job, but she does lack something when it comes to bedside manner.) I don't regret knocking you around; frankly, you deserved it. But I digress. I have a very important task for you, Nathan: I need you to find the source of these knockoff organs and __shut__them__down__. Use whatever means necessary; the entire resources of GeneCo are at your disposal._

_ And take a few days' rest. You're no good to me if you collapse halfway through this assignment._

Over Nathan's shoulder, Repo made a contemptuous noise. "Maybe he should have thought of that before he beat the shit out of you."

His other half just sighed quietly and folded the page up, stuffing it back into the envelope as he carefully stood up. Wincing, Nathan stretched and tried to work some of the stiffness out of his muscles before trudging over to where his clothes were. Slowly and a bit unsteadily, he got dressed, stopping to stare at his vest when he picked it up. It was filthy, covered in, well, what he could only presume was dried semen and blood. Apparently Rotti had used it to clean himself off. With a sigh, Nathan rolled the piece of clothing up and set it on the desk. That left only his glasses.

He stared at them like they were the most evil things in the world for a moment, then tucked them into a pocket. Fuck putting them on; his face hurt far too much for that and he feared his nose might flee in protest. Scooping his vest off the desk, he made his way out of the office, limping slightly as he walked. The trip home was uneventful; the only attention he garnered was the occasional curious glance thrown his way. By the time he reached the heavy iron door in the alley, he was wheezing and his limp had become more pronounced. Nathan slumped against the wall next to the door, the cool brick welcome against his back, and the Repo man stopped just in front of him, folding his arms as he eyed his other half.

"Tired?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Nathan shot the other an angry glare. "Yes."

"Sore?"

"What the hell do you think?" he snarled before closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the wall.

There was a quiet creak of leather and a faint steely jingle. "I'd have to say yes, considering you let _this_ happen to us."

Returning his attention to his doppelganger, Nathan's jaw dropped at the sight of the Repo man. "Wh-Why are you naked?"

"What?" Repo looked down at himself, at the bruises discoloring his flesh and the unstitched gashes crisscrossing his chest in red. "So I like the way the leather feels on my skin. I don't see what you're so upset about; no one else can see me."

"Th-That's not the point. You _did_ have clothes on earlier," Nathan pointed out.

"And?" Repo shot back, gingerly probing one of the bruises on his chest.

Nathan winced. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?" an all-too-familiar voice called from the end of the alley.

Oh damn. He heard the sound of heels clacking on the cement, growing steadily closer, and kept his head down, even when the owner of those shoes stopped a few feet away.

"Who the fuck are you talking to, Wallace?" Luigi sneered.

"No one," Nathan spat, still looking at the pavement. "What do you want, Luigi?"

A hand gloved in soft, well-maintained leather closed around his jaw and forced his face upward.

"You'd better fucking watch that mouth of yours," the Largo boy snarled up at Nathan. "That's no way to talk to your betters. Besides, I think you know what I want." His other hand tugged at the taller man's belt. "I didn't get a turn inside that ass earlier."

Annoyed, Nathan shoved Luigi away as he took a few steps away from the wall. "Leave me alone."

The cold, sharp edge of a blade pressed against his throat, stopping him and sending a jolt of excitement bolting to his crotch. Wait, no, n-not excitement…

"You don't get to tell me no," Luigi snarled, pressing the knife tighter against the other's throat.

"A-All I meant was d-do you really want to do this in the middle of an alley?" Nathan stammered, trying to placate the other man and _not_ get his throat cut. "Sir."

"That's what I thought," Luigi said with a chuckle as he forced Nathan to face the wall, taking the knife from his throat as he did so. "And you don't get to fucking question me, either. You know how this game goes: your only job is to do whatever the fuck I tell you, when I tell you."

"Yes, sir," Nathan mumbled, leaning forward so that he could rest his hands on the brick for support and spreading his legs. "C-Could you at least make it quick? I need to get home to take care of my daughter."

"I think I'll take my time," Luigi stated, grinding his crotch against Nathan's ass. "I wanna enjoy myself."

The older man whimpered painfully and his fingers tightened against the wall. With another quiet, cocky laugh, Luigi reached around to fondle Nathan, who moaned softly as he felt himself harden. Fingers slowly unfastening the older man's trousers, the Largo boy slipped his hand into Nathan's underwear and made him moan even louder when the soft leather touched his bare skin.

"You really _are_ the biggest fucking fag I've ever met," Luigi growled quietly in Nathan's ear. "I kinda feel sorry for that daughter of yours. I mean, with only you around, has she ever even fucking seen a real man; does she know what one looks like?"

A chill crept up Nathan's spine as Luigi started shoving the other's pants down.

"Maybe I should show her what a _real_ fucking man looks like when I'm through here."

Nathan wasn't entirely sure what happened; only knew that when the cold that had suddenly taken over his body lessened and the red cleared from his vision he had Luigi pinned to the wall with his right forearm across the boy's chest and had a 9 millimeter in his left hand, the tip pressed against the underside of the younger man's jaw.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about her like that," the Repo man, who was now in control of Nathan's body, seethed.

"I can say whatever the fuck I want about whoever the fuck I want to say it about," Luigi spat back.

With a snarl, Repo pistol-whipped the boy. A little thrill ran up his spine at the fear suddenly in his eyes. "No, you can't." He pressed the tip of the gun harder against the other's skin. "Talk about her like that again and you'll choke to death on your own intestines. Got it?"

"Fuck you," Luigi snapped, fear cracking his voice.

Repo slammed the butt of the gun against the boy's temple. "That's not an answer. I'll speak more slowly this time so that maybe you'll be able to understand me. You will not talk or even _think_ about my girl in that manner again or I will paint this fucking wall with the little bit of brains you do have. Do I make myself clear?"

Seeing a retort form on the Largo boy's lips, the Repo man shoved the tip of the pistol deeper into his skin. "Answer me properly or I _will_ pull this goddamn trigger."

Luigi swallowed nervously. "Fine," he replied with a sneer. "You won't hear another word about your daughter, all right?"

"That's a good boy now," Repo growled with a smirk.

"Did you just fucking call me a good boy, you fucking bitch?" Luigi roared, indignation drowning out fear, if only temporarily.

"You're damn right I did."

Another blow from the handgun bounced Luigi's skull off the brick and Repo let him slide to the pavement, dazed. Buttoning his pants and tucking the pistol into the waistband, the dark thing threw open the iron door and stalked back over to Luigi. He grabbed the boy by the collar and, making sure to seal the tunnel behind them, half dragged and half shoved the younger man through the passageway. Nathan panicked.

_What the hell are you doing?_

**Just gonna have a little fun,** Repo replied, dropping the boy next to the table and tossing his vest on top of it.

_Every time you "have a little fun" I get the crap kicked out of me some time later,_ Nathan spat as his other half rummaged around for something.

**That's because you bitch out instead of standing by what I've done,** Repo returned.

Behind him, Luigi groaned and the older man turned around, a long leather strap now in his hand. A quick swipe of his arm cleared about half of the table off with quite a bit of crashing and clanging as everything hit the floor. He hauled the boy off the ground and put him on the table in a slumped sitting position, situated in such a way that the crooks of his knees were on the edge and his shins and feet dangling. Working quickly, Repo fastened one end of the strap around Luigi's right wrist before running the length of leather underneath the table and attaching the other end to his left. Once he was sure that the still dazed boy wasn't going anywhere, the Repo man slunk into the alcove where his coat was still hanging on the hanger, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

Rolling his neck and shoulders, the dark thing shrugged the shirt off, letting it simply fall to the floor, and pulled on his Repocoat. With a satisfied growl, he yanked the pistol out of his waistband and tossed it onto the drying rack before studying the blades that were in and on the rack, looking for one in particular. Ah, there it was. The heft of the cold steel in his hand as he picked up his trusty multi-scalpel was so welcome, so comfortable; it felt like it was like an extension of his hand. He fought down the sudden urge to lift the knife high and proclaim something about his arm being complete at last. Instead, he ran the blade carefully along the uninjured side of his jaw and felt an electric thrill crackle through his body, making him shudder.

"What the fuck?" he heard Luigi snarl in the other room.

A malicious smirk crossed Repo's face and he stalked back into his lab. The Largo boy, having regained his senses, was growling and swearing as he jerked at the leather strap binding his wrists, blood streaking down the right side of his face and neck and staining his white shirt. Repo stood a few feet away from the boy for a moment, doing nothing more than watching him, before intentionally scraping his boot loudly on the floor. Startled, Luigi jumped a little, then scowled at the other man.

"What the fuck are you doing, Wallace?" he barked.

The Repo man merely chuckled as he slunk closer to the boy, whose eyes kept flicking down to the scalpel in the other's hand. Grabbing hold of Luigi's shirt, Repo started slowly snipping the buttons off of it with the blade in his hand, much to the younger man's consternation. He shrieked in protest and made threats with every button that was lost; unfortunately for him, his words fell on deaf ears. Slicing off the last button, Repo pushed open the boy's shirt with the blade, cocking his head to the side as he eyed his now bare chest. Luigi jerked backward as far as he could when Repo ran fingertips over the scarred skin.

"Get your fucking hands off of me! And you stupid fuck, do you know how fucking expensive this shirt that you ruined was?" the Largo boy snarled. "When my father hears about this –"

"The big, bad 'real' man is gonna run to Daddy for help, is he?" Repo laughed wickedly, leaning over Luigi and removing his ascot. "And what exactly are you going to tell him? That you got beat up by a pansy-ass bitch? And are you going to mention that you were trying to fuck Daddy's pet when it happened, after he specifically told you not to?"

"I'll tell him whatever the fuck I want. And I told you to get your fucking hands off of me!" the younger man snarled when the Repo man traced several of the scars on his chest and stomach with a fingertip. The scalpel snapped to his throat.

"Watch your tone, boy," Repo growled. "Take a good look around you. You're in _my_ world now, which means you'll play by my rules. And do you wanna know a secret?" He leaned in close to Luigi's ear, still holding the blade to his throat. "Down here, you can scream until your voice is gone and your throat is raw and bleeding and no one will hear a fucking thing."

The boy swallowed audibly.

"So I suggest you show me some respect. I'm very different from the bitch you're used to dealing with; I won't cower and cringe and lick your boots just because you yell and wave a knife around," the Repo man went on, still in his quiet growl. "Also, I highly recommend that you cooperate with me."

"C-Cooperate? W-With what? What do you want?"

The dark thing chuckled wickedly and gave Luigi's bare chest a long lick, right up the sternum. He groaned. Fuck, this boy's fear was delicious. Shivering ever so slightly, Luigi let out a little gasp before regaining his composure and perpetual sneer.

"Fuck you, Wallace, I'm –"

"You're what? Not a fag?" Repo cut in, his reflection-less green eyes meeting Luigi's blue ones. "Well, we're gonna find just how much of a fag you're not."

"Wha-What the hell does that mean?"

Repo laughed, quiet and malicious. "You got your pronouns mixed up, boy; I'm not the one who's going to get fucked. And I'll give you a fair warning," he growled in Luigi's right ear, "fight me, and I _will_ hurt you. And that, boy, is a promise."

He started licking the bloody side of the younger man's neck, smirking when he heard him moan. Mixing some relatively gentle bites in with the licks, he ran his free hand down over the boy's chest and stomach before palming him through his trousers.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Repo murmured against Luigi's neck, massaging the stiffness he found in the boy's pants and making him moan loudly. "I knew you protest too much, don't you, boy? I'll tell you what: if you can behave, I'll untie you." He pulled away so that he could look the younger man in the eye. "What do you say? Can you behave?"

Blushing, Luigi nodded slowly, his eyes on the floor. Repo put his blade on the boy's chin and tipped his face upward.

"You know this means that you don't fight me and that you do what I tell you, when I tell you, don't you?" Another nod. "Oh, and if you try to run, it'll be the last thing you do."

The fear coming from the younger man was intoxicating, not to mention incredibly arousing. Repo could feel his cock throb as he untied Luigi, one hand at a time. Freed, the Largo boy watched the dark thing warily as he rubbed the red marks on his wrists. Grabbing him by the lapels, Repo dragged the boy to his feet and roughly shoved the shirt over his shoulders and onto the floor. The older man growled and licked the younger's throat as his hands swiftly and deftly unfastened the other's pants.

He shoved the boy roughly back against the table, loving the way he squeaked and trembled and moaned under his forceful ministrations. Oh yes, this boy really did protest too much. He might yell and threaten and act all tough but handle him firmly and he practically melted. Repo chuckled at the thought and, slipping his hand into Luigi's underwear, grabbed his cock tightly. He would indeed use a firm hand with the boy.

Another growl escaped him as he nipped Luigi's throat before stripping the younger man's lower half, taking off underwear, pants, shoes, and socks all in one motion and just dropping them to the floor. A few steps away from him now, Repo slowly unfastened his own pants as he watched the Largo boy, who was panting and leaned against the table, his hands on the edge and his eyes on the older man's hands. Repo saw Luigi swallow thickly and his fingers tighten on the tabletop when he freed his erection, groaning in relief as he did so. Moving quickly, he pressed close to the boy and began licking and biting his scarred chest as his hands closed over the boy's hips and jerked his pelvis forward, causing him to make a little muffled sound. Well, this simply would not do; he wanted to hear this boy scream. Letting his tongue trail lightly over the marred flesh, the Repo man scraped his teeth over Luigi's nipple and the younger man let out a loud cry that turned into a long, drawn out moan as Repo lapped at the taut peak he'd abused. Now, that was much better.

Abruptly, he pulled away and looked Luigi up and down. The Largo boy was breathing heavily, his chest red and puffy from the older man's teeth and glistening from his saliva. Repo ran a hand slowly down the other's chest and stomach before quickly spinning him around and pushing his upper body down onto the table. Leaning over the boy, Repo licked his ear.

"Don't move; I have to go get something," he breathed, giving the ear another lick and smirking at the way the younger man shivered against him.

He gave the boy a gentle bite on the ear before he straightened and walked over to a chest of drawers. Scanning them, he found the right one, opened it, and pulled out what he was looking for. His other half stirred at the thing in his hand.

_Why the hell do you have a bottle of personal lubricant in the basement?_ Nathan asked, his annoyance showing through the slight grogginess.

**You ever try fucking a corpse without lube?** Repo returned. **That shit hurts.**

_You disgust me,_ his other half sneered as they moved back over to the boy.

The Repo man merely chuckled as he looked down at the younger man. Luigi was exactly the way he'd left – No, he wasn't exactly the way he'd left him; he had shifted a little so that his legs were spread just a bit.

"I thought I told you not to move."

He was back at the boy's ear, his tone a low, dangerous hiss. Luigi blushed and mumbled an apology. With a growl, the Repo man straightened and shoved the younger man's legs farther apart, smirking at the way he squeaked when he did so.

"You might want to relax, boy," Repo said, noticing the tension in the younger man's back and the way his hands were clenched against the tabletop as he squirted lube onto his fingers. "Otherwise this'll hurt like hell."

He heard Luigi take a deep breath and saw his strained muscles loosen. Bringing his slicked-up finger to the other's entrance, Repo listened to him moan as he teased the boy, circling his fingertip around the ring of muscle and occasionally pressing against it, enough to make the younger man's moan intensify but not enough to slip in. Fuck, it was taking everything he had to keep from simply fucking this boy 'til he bled.

_What's stopping you?_ his other half asked. _You're a monster, it's not like it would be out of character for you._

**As I've stated before, I'm a very patient man. Although, I really don't see what it matters to you.**His finger stilled. **Unless... Do you want me to?**

_What? N-No, that's not what I meant!_ Nathan spluttered. _I was just, curious is all._

Repo just shook his head. His other half's denial wasn't helping him stay in control. Working his finger into Luigi, he couldn't help but groan.

"Oh, fuck, boy, you are _tight_," he growled. "You've never done this before, have you?"

"N-No," the younger man groaned, from the sound of it through gritted teeth. "I told you, I'm not a fucking queer."

"So I've heard," the Repo man drawled as he slid his finger most of the way out of the boy.

Pressing back in, he heard Luigi do his best to stifle a loud moan. Gently, he nipped and licked at the boy's shoulder as he introduced a second finger and started slowly thrusting them in and out. God, the way Luigi whimpered and moaned and shuddered at that… With a quiet snarl, Repo gave one final, hard thrust before pulling his fingers out and slicking himself up, still leaned over the younger man. Yes, he was a monster, he would never deny that, but at the same time he rather liked the boy and if he'd wanted to hurt him, he would have done so already.

Lining up, he shoved forward, sliding about three-fourths of the way in with one motion. He groaned into Luigi's shoulder, shuddering and trying his damnedest not to lose it. God, if he had known that the boy felt _this_ fucking good he would have had him a very long time ago. Teeth and tongue going to work on the other's neck and shoulder, the Repo man started sliding in and out of Luigi, taking him slow and deep. Patience. That was the only word he could hear rattling around in his head; counsel not easily taken with the boy moaning and writhing beneath him. Luigi was so sensitive; every little touch made him squirm, every thrust made him whimper pathetically.

Repo thought he heard a word somewhere in the pitiful sounds coming from Luigi, so he tugged at the boy's earlobe with his teeth. "What was that?"

"N-Nothing," was the breathless reply.

"Don't fucking lie to me," the older man snarled, biting down hard enough to draw a spot of blood.

Luigi gasped, more in surprise than in pain. "H-Harder," he groaned. "P-Please, fuck me harder."

Well, there went the last shreds of his self-control. With a loud, savage snarl, he pulled out of the boy, grabbed his shoulder, yanked him straight, and, spinning him 'round, shoved him back so that he was somewhat seated on the table, leaned back on his hands. Repo wrapped Luigi's legs around his waist as he slammed back into the younger man. His left hand was on the other's hip, his right on the table for support as he gave the boy what he'd asked for. Slowly, he trailed a long, hot lick over the younger man's chest and up the side of his neck, stopping just below his ear.

"How's that?" Repo growled softly, chuckling when the only response he got was a loud, shuddery moan.

Much to his surprise, the younger man hooked an arm around his neck as he went to pull away, keeping him close. He got another surprise when, hesitantly, the boy leaned forward and gently bit Repo's shoulder before shrinking back, clearly embarrassed. A small smile flitted across the dark thing's face. It was, sweet, almost, the way the boy had become shy all of the sudden.

Softly, he brushed his lips against Luigi's, making him gasp in surprise at the light touch, then went to work on his throat with gentle teeth and hot tongue. The younger man moaned and arched his back, his arm still hooked around the Repo man's neck. Something brushed against the older man's stomach, leaving a damp line on his skin. He growled into the boy's neck as his hand left his hip and grabbed his dick. Hand and hips moving almost in sync, Repo listened to Luigi's moans become louder and felt the hot flesh he was buried in tighten. He groaned. The boy was peaking quickly, dragging him along as he climbed higher and higher, growing tighter and tighter until –

"Oh, oh, God, oh fuck," Luigi gasped, clutching the older man tight as he climaxed in jerks and shudders.

Not far behind the boy, the Repo man snarled as he came, his thrusts gradually slowing. Luigi was panting and groaning in the other's ear, gently stroking the back of his neck. Repo grunted in surprise when he felt soft lips on the side of his neck, then chuckled silently. So the big, tough man was tenderly kissing his lover's neck as he came down off his high; how adorable. He let the boy keep at it for a bit, rather enjoying the feeling of lips and fingers on his skin.

"That's quite nice, boy, but you know what?" he eventually growled softly in the other's ear before giving it a quick tug. "I think that pretty mouth of yours could be put to better use cleaning up that mess you made."

Not missing a beat, the younger man slid off the older's cock and started making his way down his chest to his stomach, licking the cooled streaks of seed off his skin when he found them.

"Atta boy," Repo growled, his fingers sliding through the younger man's hair. Those fingers grabbed Luigi's hair and held him in place when he neared his groin. "Ah-ah, now. Much as I'd like that, I've got things to do, which means you need to leave."

Luigi stared up at the older man. "What?" he snarled, his usual demeanor starting to slide back into place.

"Funny, I didn't think my statement was that complicated. Let me rephrase it: I'm a very busy man and I'm done with you; put your clothes back on and get the fuck out of my house."

The boy slowly stood up, a scowl twisting his features. "You can't treat me like that," he snarled. "Do you forget just who the fuck I am?"

Repo grabbed the younger man around the throat and shoved him back against the table, his face close the other's. "I know exactly who you are. You're the bitch who licked the cum off of me because I told him to. Now," he growled, tightening his grip to cut off the words forming on the younger man's lips, "I'm trying to be nice here. I could just throw you out into the street naked. So, you've got a choice: you can either shut the hell up and put your clothes on, or I can toss you out as-is."

"F-Fine," Luigi spat shakily. "I'll get dressed. Y-You'll have to let me go, though."

The Repo man snorted before releasing his throat. Stuffing himself back into his pants, he watched the boy nervously and shamefully pull his clothes back on and fretfully try to finger-comb his sweaty hair into something halfway decent, succeeding only in making himself look more disheveled. Luigi then folded his arms defensively and glowered at the other man.

"So," he sneered, making that one word as derogatory as possible. "Which way out?"

Smirking, Repo jerked his head toward the tunnel. Luigi scowled and stormed past the older man, who followed silently behind him. The boy was limping slightly, and it most likely annoyed him to no end.

"Y'know, boy, you were right," Repo said when they were almost through the passageway, startling the hell out of Luigi. The younger man jumped, then threw an angry glare over his shoulder. "I _did_ like this time much better than last."

Reaching the door, the Repo man oozed around Luigi and threw the bar on the door, then turned and stalked toward the boy, backing him against the wall. With a smirk, he readjusted the other's ascot before leaning in close, bringing his mouth next to his ear.

"We'll have to do this again sometime," Repo said quietly. "Maybe when I don't have so many things to do."

Without warning, Repo kicked the door open and pushed Luigi out into the alley. Stumbling, the boy had barely made it out of the way before the dark thing yanked the door shut and slammed the bar home. Repo turned on his heel and strode back into the lab.

_What the hell are you doing?_ his other half snapped. _You can't just let him go; what if he tells someone what you did?_

The Repo man chuckled as he hung up his Repocoat, scooped the shirt up off the floor, and slipped it on, not bothering to button it. "I doubt very much that he's going to tell anyone anything. That boy's too proud to admit he'd been bested at anything, and he'd never admit that somebody fucked him."

_That's still a big risk. What if he tells Rotti, like he threatened to?_

"That was a bluff," Repo stated simply. "And what did you want me to do? Kill him?"

_No! Not at all! Just, threaten him a little, tell him to make sure he keeps his mouth shut._

A small smile crept across Repo's face as he slowly ascended the stairs. "I see," he mused quietly. "I haven't seen this side of you before. I must say, I like it."

_What?_ Nathan spluttered as they passed through the fireplace. _There's no "new side to me", it's just me!_

"I never said it was a 'new' side of you; I just said I hadn't seen it before," Repo retorted. "It's aggressive. Maybe you've gotten over yourself a little and tapped into the place where I live."

_I would _never_ do something like that. I don't want to be a monster like you. And where are you going?_ he snapped as they started to climb the stairs leading to the second floor.

"To bed," Repo growled.

_I don't trust you, _Nathan spat. _I want control back. Now. You never should have taken it._

"Who cares what I should and shouldn't do? I don't. And if you want it, take it. I can't stop you if you really want it."

There was a sensation in his brain like snow sliding off of a roof as Nathan wrenched control away from his dark half. A massive wave of exhaustion instantly smashed into him and he stumbled, falling pretty much onto his face on the landing of the stairs. As he lay there, heavy boots thumped into his line of vision. The Repo man, now with pants on and his coat hanging open, squatted down so that his other half could see him better, an arrogant smile on his lips. Some part of Nathan's brain dully noted that his double's wounds were bleeding and then everything went black.

**A/N: I look forward to your hate-mail, Luigi fans... Look, it's not out of character for him, at the end with Repo... You pay attention, that boy *does* protest too much****...**** (Trust me, I would know... That boy and I are far too alike) Plus, Repo doms everyone, no exceptions...**

**Ah, yes, and now for the game we all (and by "we all", I mean me... For my own entertainment...) play. So, last chapter, I took a bit of "Flesh for Fantasy" by Billy Idol; a bit of the chorus to be exact: Face to face/And back to back/You see and feel/My sex attack/Sing it, flesh, flesh for fantasy/We want flesh, flesh for fantasy ... So when Repo's talking about "something for you to both see and feel"... I wonder what he could be talking about... (And sue me, I rather enjoy semi-cheesy 80's stuff...) Ah, yes... And this time, I realized I did a song and two movies... Well, ok, one movie was originally a book and the other was (I think) a stage musical... The latter shouldn't be that hard to spot...**

**And please accept my sincerest apologies for taking so long... And not replying to any of your reviews... I'm just, stupid shy; I freak out and panic sometimes... Anyways... I'm working on the next chapter (which will break the cycle of gay... Sorry bout that too...) and hopefully it won't be four months in between...  
**


	7. Goddammit, Nathan

_GUESS WHO'S BACK!  
... After seven fucking months, I'll give ya that..._

What the hell was he doing in Shilo's room? For that matter, where the hell was Shilo?

Nathan felt very disoriented and groggy as he looked around the room and found that he was indeed alone, standing near his daughter's piano. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to clear the fog filling his brain. It didn't work.

A soft sound reached his ears. Shilo. He quickly pulled his hand away from his eyes and saw his daughter come into the room, dressed in nothing more than a short white nightgown. Either she didn't see him or was ignoring him, because she didn't look his way as she came into the room. She stopped next to the bed and scooped up a stuffed animal. Clutching it to her chest, Shilo idly petted the toy's head and was, from the look of it, deep in thought. Nathan smiled quietly, wondering what she was thinking about and content to simply stand here and watch her.

Something grabbed his attention and dragged it to the doorway. Nathan's heart froze when he saw the door begin to slowly swing shut. The Repo man, leering, was behind it, one leather-clad hand on the slab of wood and pushing it closed. Oblivious, Shilo tossed her toy back onto the bed and readjusted her wig. His heart leapt into his throat and he wanted to call out to her, to warn her, but no sound came out of his mouth.

The door slammed shut, making Shilo visibly start. She snapped toward the sound, then grabbed her chest, relaxing.

"Oh, Daddy, it's you!" she exclaimed, relieved.

Repo didn't reply, simply started slowly stalking toward her, a predatory gleam in those cold eyes of his. The bright, relieved smile on Shilo's face wavered.

"Are you all right, Dad?" she asked the thing that looked like her father.

Light bounced off the scalpel in Repo's hand. Seeing it, Shilo took a faltering step back. What the fuck was his other half doing? Nathan wanted to make him stop and would have thrown himself between his daughter and his doppelganger had his legs not been frozen. The dark thing's eyes flicked to his other half for a second, silently laughing at him. Fear, apprehension, and excitement filled the air with a sensation that almost crackled.

"What are you doing?" Shilo's voice was small and thin. "Daddy, you're scaring me."

The Repo man laughed quietly and maliciously. "Oh, no, _precious_," he growled, sneering the last word mockingly. "Daddy's not here right now."

"Wha-?"

"Shh," Repo hissed, laying a gloved finger over her lips. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

He grinned like a skull.

"Well, at least not irreparably."

The scream got stuck in Nathan's throat as his dark half slowly ran the blade of his scalpel up the inside of Shilo's thigh. She shivered and gasped softly, especially when the cold steel slid underneath the edge of her nightgown. Everything inside Nathan was screaming at him to do something, to make the other stop, but he couldn't; his feet were nailed to the floor. All he could do was watch.

Carefully, not wanting to cut her (well, not yet anyway), the Repo man slit the front of Shilo's nightgown, hem to neck, and pushed the ruined clothing off of her with the blade. She quickly and defensively covered her bare chest. Nathan wanted to look away, should have looked away when Repo pulled Shilo over to him-positioning her so that she was facing her father with her back to when Repo pulled Shilo over to him-positioning her so that she was facing her father with her back to the leathery monster-and unfolded her arms. God, she was so beautiful.

"Isn't she?" Repo growled quietly, his eyes on Nathan as his left hand slid into Shilo's underwear and the other went to her throat.

His daughter whimpered, then squeaked when Repo ran his tongue slowly up the side of her neck. Nathan gasped in surprise; he could faintly taste her skin. Chuckling, his other half smirked at him and slid his hand farther into Shilo's underwear, making her shudder and moan ever-so-softly. His own hand clenched at the feeling of heat against his palm.

"You shouldn't be so jealous," the dark thing murmured, so softly that Nathan shouldn't have been able to hear him, yet he did. "Nothing's stopping you from coming over here and-" He nipped Shilo's neck, hard, leaving bright red teeth marks on the pale flesh. "-joining me."

_Something _is _stopping me b-because I-I can't move. N-Not that I would do that if I could move!_ Nathan stammered defensively.

"You can move, you're just keeping yourself from doing so."

_What? No, why would I do that? I want to protect Shilo!_

"And that's exactly why you can't move," Repo told his other half. "Because you _would_ join me if you came over here." He grinned cruelly. "You wouldn't be able to stop yourself."

_No, no, that's a lie__,_ Nathan shot back, doing his best to ignore the heat against his palm and building in his own body. A realization struck him. _This, this isn't real, is it? There's no way we can both be here; this has to be a dream, a nightmare of sorts._

His doppelganger chuckled. "I don't know; is it?"

Before Nathan could formulate a response, he felt the sensation of hot, slick skin against his fingertips and he gasped, his daughter doing the same simultaneously. Her gasp turned into a series of loud, pitiful cries, her left hand clutching desperately at Repo's, her right gripping the back of his neck as he stroked her clit. Nathan could feel her nails digging into the back of his neck.

"Awfully vivid dream, don't you think?"

_You fucking monster!_ Nathan screamed, then froze, realizing he'd been rubbing himself through his pants. He quickly pulled his hand away, blushing.

The Repo man simply laughed and pulled his hand out of Shilo's panties, giving his fingertips a quick lick. Groaning, Nathan clapped a hand over his mouth at the taste suddenly on his tongue. What could he do? He needed to make that wicked bastard stop, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't –

_What the hell do you think you're doing?_

Repo had pushed Shilo back and down onto the bed. He didn't even deign to look at Nathan as he ran his hands down over her chest and stomach before slowly removing her underwear. Flushed, panting, and her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she whimpered softly at his ministrations. The dark thing, one gloved hand lightly trailing along the inside of her thigh, shot his other half a cocky smirk.

"Come on, now, you know what I'm doing. How many times have you wondered what it would be like to be tongue-deep in jailbait, those milky thighs wrapped around your neck?"

_You wouldn't dare…_

His other half, who had been laying a line of searing, tremble- and moan-inducing kisses up the inside of her thigh, sat back on his haunches and gave Nathan a curious look. "You're right, I wouldn't. I'm far too selfish of a man for something like that."

He shifted so that he was seated comfortably and securely on the edge of the bed. Quickly unbuckling his coat and unfastening his pants (not wearing a shirt under the leather), he crooked a finger at Shilo. She moved slowly, almost as if in a daze, as she crawled over to him and knelt by his side. His hand on her chin, he tipped her face up and brought his mouth a hairsbreadth away from hers before flicking his eyes to Nathan.

"Should I kiss her, hmm?" he asked, his tongue darting out and brushing against her lips. "Or should I simply – unh!"

His surprised groan was caused, he found with a quick glance, by Shilo's thin, pale fingers on his hot, hard cock. He grinned at her and she looked at the floor quickly and started to pull her hand away, turning even an even deeper red. With a small, quiet laugh, Repo caught her hand and held it in place. Nathan couldn't help but moan softly.

"Hey, precious, no need to be so shy," Repo breathed in Shilo's ear. "You can touch me. I like it very much when you touch me, especially when it's _here_." He tightened his hand for emphasis, making her fingers squeeze his shaft even more and his other half groan. "You could even taste it if you wanted."

_No, don't -!_

He was cut off with a gasp by the feeling of her lips against his. Shilo was kissing the Repo man, soft and tentative, her hand massaging the firm flesh in her fingers. With a growl, Repo cupped the back of her head with one hand and dominated the kiss. It became deep and possessive, his tongue prying her mouth open and plunging deep, tangling with hers as he explored. She whimpered, and her father moaned loudly. Fuck, it felt _so_ good, he could only imagine how it would be if it wasn't filtered through the other.

Something welled up inside him, a thought, a feeling: _Why would she want _him_?_ Nathan wasn't sure if it was anger, jealousy, or both that he was feeling, but his hands, shaking, curled up into fists. How _could_ she want the Repo man? He was a monster, worse than an animal, for animals run on instinct, pure and simple, not malice. That brute didn't love her; she was only a thing to him, just like everyone else. _He_ loved her, more than he could ever be able to try and explain, so why was _her_ tongue in that, that _thing's_ mouth? He didn't deserve it.

Nathan couldn't bear to watch anymore and launched himself forward with every ounce of power he had. The first few steps were like trying to run through water before he broke free of whatever was holding onto him. Quickly closing the gap, he pushed Shilo away from the Repo man and angrily shoved his other half onto his back, straddling his stomach.

"Well, now, if _you_ wanted to be the one riding my cock, all you had to do was ask," Repo smirked.

"Shut up!" Nathan screamed, rage turning his vision red as he punched the other in his face.

Pain shot through his hand and his own face but he didn't stop; something broke inside him and he just kept pounding away, alternating fists, scraping his knuckles on teeth, feeling blood pour down his face.

"Daddy?"

The sound came from far away and barely registered through the bloody haze filling Nathan. Beneath him, despite the pummeling he was receiving, the Repo man was laughing maniacally.

"Daddy? Daddy!"

He realized there were hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him roughly, desperately.

"Not right now, Shilo," he snarled, brushing her away.

The hands didn't leave him as he pulled back for another punch.

"Dad, please!"

Nathan froze. Was she crying? Why? What was wrong? Repo was still cackling like a madman, bruised and bleeding though he was. Nathan needed to shut him up. With a roar, he brought his fist down –

Nathan woke with a start. It took him a moment to realize that he was still face-down on the cool wood of the stairs, Shilo shaking him frantically. With a pained groan, he shoved himself into a sitting position and put a hand to his head to try and make it stop spinning. His daughter was knelt next to him, watching him and unsure of what to do. When everything stopped spinning and the pain became tolerable, he opened his eyes and, remembering where his mind had just been, looked at her carefully. Everything seemed all right.

"Oh, Shi, I'm so glad you're okay," Nathan said, quickly embracing her.

"Dad, why wouldn't I be?"

"I, I just…" He trailed off and pulled her tighter, a single tear streaking down his cheek. She yelped and her let her go, looking at her in concern. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing," she lied, unconsciously rubbing the side of her neck.

"Shilo," Nathan said sternly.

"Really, it's –"

He pulled her hand away from her neck and pushed her hair aside. His eyes widened and he gasped. There, on the side of her neck, right where the Repo man had bitten her, was a bruise, and a very fresh one at that if the red skin, just starting to purple, was any indication.

"Precious, what happened?" Nathan asked his daughter, his fingers gently probing the wound.

"I-I don't know," Shilo replied. "I woke up from this crazy dream and there it was."

Behind him, the Repo man laughed.

_You didn't,_ Nathan spluttered in disbelief.

"I don't know; did I?" his other half taunted.

_You__ —!_

"Dad?"

Nathan realized he was just holding Shilo's neck, a blank look on his face. "Sorry, darling, I-I was thinking about something," he said with a shaky smile. "This, dream, what was it about?"

She blushed deeply. "Wh-What does it matter?"

"I was just curious," her father replied, backing down from the subject.

"Wanted to know if she had the same 'dream' as you?" Repo asked with a laugh.

_You stay the hell out of this!_ Nathan snapped.

Shilo brushed her fingertips across his forehead, then frowned. "Daddy, what happened? You're all beat-up again, even worse than before," she said softly, gently touching his left brow, his nose, the left side of his jaw.

It was her father's turn to blush. He couldn't imagine how he looked; if the way he felt was any indication, it couldn't be good. As he looked at the floor, unable to meet her gaze, he noticed that the bandages on his chest were soaked in dried blood.

"It was an —"

"An accident," she finished with a sigh. "Yeah, I saw that coming. So did you run into a doorknob or fall down the stairs this time? And I suppose that he told you that he loves you and said he's sorry and promised to never do it again, didn't he?"

"Shilo," Nathan began warningly.

"No, Dad, don't you 'Shilo' me, I'm tired of all the bullshit."

Nathan was too stunned to react. He'd never heard Shilo swear before.

"I mean, come _on_, Dad," she went on. "How many times have you come home from work and just locked yourself in your room and cried? Or looking like you were being used as a boxer's punching bag? Is it _really_ that dangerous being a doctor?"

"Shilo, please –"

"No, I'm not done."

"Yes, you are!" he barked angrily, forcing himself to his feet.

The world shifted and tilted, shoving him off-balance and back to the floor with a heavy thud. Instantly Shilo was at his side.

"Oh, Dad, I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

He groaned. "I'm fine, honey," he reassured her, pushing himself back into a sitting position.

The hand he brought to his mouth and nose came away streaked with blood. That's what that crunch was; he thought so. Carefully, he hauled himself to back to his feet, leaning on the wall for support as he stumbled falteringly toward the second floor. Shilo quickly rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. Her father waved her off.

"Really, Shilo, I'll be fine," Nathan growled, nearly falling as he took a step.

His daughter caught and steadied him. "Yeah, you look real fine. Here," she said, wrapping his arm around her neck and shoulders, "let me help."

Nathan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a mental sigh. Why fight? Truthfully, he could use the help. Leaning against Shilo as little as possible (considering how much bigger than her he was), Nathan slid along the wall to the first step and just stared at it for a moment. He didn't want to fall again; he could feel his face throbbing and blood dribbling down his chin and onto his chest.

"C'mon, Dad, you can do it," Shilo said encouragingly. "I'm here for you."

He smiled at her. "I know, precious," he told her.

"Aww, you two are so cute together," the Repo man mocked.

_Fuck off!_

The other just laughed. Oblivious to the exchange between her father and his dark side, Shilo quietly and gently urged Nathan up the stairs. He stumbled only a little as they climbed and then proceeded down the hall, his daughter steadying him every time he wavered. She started guiding him to his bedroom, but he grabbed her shoulder and shook his head.

"Bathroom," he groaned, gesturing vaguely at the door.

"Fuck!" Repo snarled as they moved toward the bathroom. "I thought we'd seen the last of the goddamn bathroom three chapters ago!"

They staggered into the room and across the black and white tile to the sink. Pulling his arm away from Shilo, Nathan leaned heavily on the porcelain, his head down. How was he so out of breath?

"Thank you, dear," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair and grimacing at how dirty it felt. "You can go now."

"Dad, I-I don't know if that's such a good idea," Shilo mumbled, shuffling awkwardly.

Nathan rubbed his eyes and turned to her with a soft sigh. "Precious, what do you mean? You can't stay, honey, I have to, well, you know," he said with a wave toward the toilet.

She blushed a little. "I know, but what if you fall?"

"I'll be fine, Shi, I can take care of myself. I _am_ a grown man," he stated sternly.

"But-"

"No, Shilo," Nathan half-barked, startling his daughter a little, "now go, please."

Shilo blushed even more, ducked her head, and scurried out the door. With a heavy sigh, Nathan turned back to the sink and splashed some water on his face. He hadn't meant to be so short with Shilo; he shouldn't have snapped like that. Too late now, there was nothing he could do; except, perhaps, rush out after her and apologize profusely. And that was out of the question, as he wasn't even sure if he could make it to the toilet.

Groaning, Nathan steeled himself and pushed away from the sink. He half staggered, half fell toward the other side of the bathroom, catching himself on the tank with a loud clank.

"You okay, Daddy?" Shilo called from the other side of the door, sounding worried.

"I'm fine, precious, go on to your room," Nathan replied, flipping the seat up and undoing his pants, which wasn't easy considering he had to keep one hand on the back of the toilet to keep his balance.

Fuck, it burned, and he wasn't surprised to see blood in the bowl as he tucked himself back into his pants. Flushing it, he turned, took a few stumbled steps, and then his knees gave in. He dropped with a loud cry as pain jolted from his injured knees. Behind him, he could hear smug laughter.

"What's so damn funny?" Nathan snarled.

"You are," Repo shot back, "trying to run around like nothing happened. Just because you ignore it doesn't mean that there's not a shitload of stitches in your chest."

Nathan shifted so that he wasn't resting on his knees anymore. "Maybe, but it's not all my fault," he growled, turning a little so he could see the Repo man. "If you hadn't –"

"Dad!" Shilo burst breathlessly into the bathroom and was at his side in an instant. Her father looked at her in annoyance.

"Didn't I tell you to go to your room?" he growled through gritted teeth.

"You did," she replied, "and I was, but then I heard you yell and –"

He cut her off with a wave. "I'm fine, Shi, really; go back to your room."

"But –"

"Don't argue with me, Shilo!" Nathan roared, slamming his fist onto the floor. "To your room, NOW!"

He had time to see his daughter's face crumple before she spun and dashed out of the room. Feeling like dirt, Nathan buried his face in his hands. God, he made her cry. He slammed the heels of his hands against his forehead. Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ A hand rested on his shoulder.

"You really fucked things up, didn't you?" the Repo man said quietly.

"_I_ fucked things up?" Nathan growled, pulling his face out of his hands and glaring up at his doppelganger. "I wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for _you_. You had to go and fuck around with Luigi –"

"And _you_ just sat there and let that fat bastard slice you up like a fine pot roast," Repo shot back.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Nathan looked at the floor. "I didn't have a choice," he mumbled.

"There's always a choice," his other half growled, grabbing his hair with a gloved hand and tipping his head back.

It hurt his neck like hell and Nathan gritted his teeth in pain. "Just like you chose to ignore your promise to me?"

Repo let go of Nathan in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"In the room, you said you'd stop harassing me and then…" Nathan shook his head, then rubbed the side of his face with one hand. "What you did, with Shilo, after what you told me…"

"You just hold the fuck on," Repo spat, sinking down on his haunches in front of his other half. "You misunderstood what I meant. I was talking about leaving the subject of you and me alone, not her." He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. "I-I can't leave that alone."

"Why not?" Nathan's voice was a deep growl, almost matching the other's.

"Why?" the dark thing snarled back. "Why? Because you want it too damn much!"

"That's a lie!" Nathan roared, scrambling to lunge at his double. "That's what you want!"

Repo caught him by the lapels and easily countered his move, using Nathan's own momentum to flip him onto his back and pin him to the ground. The force of the impact knocked the breath out of his lungs. Gasping, he struggled to get away, but the other man was straddling his hips, his knees pinning his hands against the tile. With an enraged snarl, Repo leaned over his other half and slammed his gloved hands onto the floor on either side of Nathan's head.

"_You_," he seethed, so much fury somehow packed into that one syllable. "You are so _obsessed_ with separating us into 'you' and 'me', and so quick to cast me in the role of the villain, that you ignore the truth."

"What truth?" Nathan sneered. "You're nothing but a lying, murderous monster; you've got nothing truthful or of value to s—"

Repo struck Nathan in the face, hard enough to make him see stars.

"There you go calling me a monster again," he snarled, wrapping his hand around the other's throat and bringing his face close to Nathan's. "That's not all that I am, and it sure as hell isn't my name."

"You don't have a name," Nathan spat.

"Yes, I do," Repo growled through clenched teeth. "I know it, and you know it, so why don't you use it, if only this once?"

"You don't –"

"What is my name?" Repo roared, his face only fractions of an inch away from Nathan's, his cold eyes meeting his other half's and his fingers tightening.

The trapped man gasped, the back of his skull throbbing.

"N-Nathan," he choked out. "Y-Your name is Nathan."

Repo smirked, though it was more of a sneer than a grin. "Just like yours, isn't it?"

"Yes," Nathan replied as he closed his eyes, unable to look at the Repo man. "Just like mine."

"And why is that, faggot?" Repo growled, teeth bared.

Nathan scowled up at the dark thing. "Because you think you're me."

Repo yanked Nathan's head off the tile before smashing it back down, making him see stars again. "I don't _think_ I'm you," he barked. "We're the same. Fucking. Person. The sooner you realize that, the better off we'll both be."

He slammed Nathan's head against the floor again before abruptly standing. Nathan groaned in pain, the heels of his hands pressed against his forehead. It was several minutes before he could sit up, doing so slowly. The back of his head was throbbing, making knives of pain stab into the backs of his eyes. Opening them to mere slits, Nathan looked around and spied his other half leaned against the sink, his shoulders hunched and his head down.

"Jesus," Nathan groaned, tenderly touching the sore spot on his scalp with a grimace. "You hurt me."

Repo sneered at him over his shoulder. "And? I'm not sorry; it does you good."

Nathan grimaced again, noticing the jerk in the other's shoulders. "That's not what the back of my skull says."

The other simply snorted. "Who cares? What? Don't you like it?" He snorted again, turning back to the sink.

"I'm _not_ a masochist!" Nathan snapped, regretting it the instant it happened.

He winced, holding his head carefully. Leather covered fingers grabbed his chin and tilted his head upward. The other's face was mere inches from his own.

"What? Not into self-inflicted pain?" Repo sneered. A grin twitched the corners of his mouth. "Or is it because I wasn't fucking you when I did it?"

"N-None of those things!" Nathan shouted, pushing his double away. "Leave me alone!"

The Repo man landed heavily on his hip, making Nathan groan in surprise. He was feeling things from his other half far more than he was comfortable with. Something had to be done about that. Repo laughed.

"And just what do you think you can do about it? Deny it some more?" he spat as he stood. "Good luck with that; I'm pretty sure we're well past that point."

"Where do you think you're going?" Nathan barked, scrambling to his feet as his other half slunk into the bedroom.

Repo snorted in annoyance. "Where I wanted to go in the first place, before you interrupted me like an asshole and we ended up passed out on the stairs: bed."

Nathan watched the other with deep suspicion as he sank down onto the bed and stretched out, blinking lazily and sleepily. Folding his hands loosely over his chest, the dark thing rolled his eyes to Nathan.

"You gonna just stand there looking at me stupid? I know you're fucking exhausted."

Cautiously, Nathan staggered over to the bed and sat down on the edge. His stomach twisted nervously. He wasn't so sure about sitting with his back to the Repo man. The drawer on his table was partly open and a small, pale yellow box inside it caught his eye. Pulling it out and opening it, he smiled.

"Whacha got there that's giving you all kinds of warm, fuzzy feelings?" Repo asked, his voice soft in Nathan's ear.

"Nothing, just a present –"

"For Shilo," Repo finished, suddenly standing in front of Nathan. He plucked the box from the other's hands, a quiet, surprisingly soft smile creeping across his lips. "Yes, it's her birthday in about a week or so, isn't it?"

"Yes," Nathan said, slow and suspicious. "What does it matter to you?"

Repo ignored his other half. "Seventeen, can you believe it?" His smile could have been called wistful had it been on almost any other person. "It feels like just yesterday I was chasing her as she toddled around, trying to keep her from running into things and kissing away her boo-boos, and now look at her. So grown up and so, so beautiful."

Nathan eyed his dark half suspiciously. "What are you driving at?"

Repo gave the other a quick glance. "Nothing; I'm not driving at anything."

"Yeah, right," Nathan snarled.

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Not at all, especially since if I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounded like you loved her."

Nathan saw his double's head snap up at the same time an offended, angry, and slightly defensive feeling filled his chest.

"I do," was all the dark thing said, his voice low and dangerous.

Though he was a bit uneasy at the way he was being looked at, Nathan laughed. "That's rich," he snapped, unsure just whose anger he was feeling.

Repo shifted, drawing himself up to his full height and sneering down at his other half. "I love that girl," he snarled, "more than you know, more than I have words for."

He started pacing, one hand running through his hair, clearly agitated.

"I don't know why you don't see it," he went on, stalking back and forth like a big cat in a cage. "I _love_ her, so much that it's more than I can stand sometimes, so much that I'd cut the very heart from my chest and lay it at her feet if it'd make her happy. Why don't you see that?"

"Maybe it's because you always talk about hurting her," Nathan shot back.

"Bah!" Repo spat with a dismissing wave of his hand, still pacing. "A little bite, a little nick, nothing life-threatening, and certainly nothing she wouldn't recover from after a few days."

He stopped and looked Nathan right in the eye.

"Nothing she wouldn't enjoy."

"How dare you talk about Shilo that way," Nathan fumed. "And you wonder why I don't believe that you love her!"

"Yes, it's impossible to believe that your precious, delicate little flower might actually enjoy some rough sex." He snorted a short laugh. "Let me tell you, you should have seen the shit I caught her watching one time. It was pretty rough stuff, and hot as hell."

"Wh-What?" Nathan spluttered. Oh, God, what had that dark thing done?

"Relax," Repo said, stepping closer to Nathan. "I didn't touch her, and she never saw me. I just, enjoyed the show." He pressed the box back into the other man's hands. "It's beautiful, by the way; she'll love it."

Nathan stared down into the box for a moment, at the red and black and green moth in it, then jumped a little when he felt warm breath on the back of his neck.

"Y'know, maybe I should get her something as well," the Repo man growled quietly. "Something she'll enjoy much, much more than any old moth."

Spinning quickly, a retort or reprimand forming on his lips, Nathan found his other half stretched out on the bed, somehow sound asleep. His anger quickly melted, leaving him with only exhaustion. Nathan rubbed an eye sleepily as he carefully tucked the box back into the drawer and slid under the covers, careful not to turn his back to the dark thing in his bed as he nodded off.

He woke some time much, much later from a blissfully dreamless sleep and just laid there for a moment, relishing the quiet, the much-lessened pain and sense of relief in his body, and the comforting warmth against his back.

Wait, what?

His eyes snapped open and he warily evaluated his situation. In addition to the bulk behind him, there was a strong arm wrapped protectively around his chest and soft breath and rough stubble against the back of his neck. Nathan tensed, positive his double was plotting something, but when nothing but more slow, steady breathing happened, he slowly relaxed. A sudden urge caught him by surprise. Slowly, cautiously, he slid backwards a few inches, pressing tighter against the other.

He heard a soft chuckle and felt lips press against the side of his neck. The arm around him tightened as he tried to pull away.

"Hey, now, what's the rush?" Repo growled, sliding his hand to Nathan's crotch. "You were getting all cuddly with me, no need to stop."

"I-I was not!" Nathan snapped, sliding off the opposite side of the bed.

He rubbed the side of his jaw, scowling a little at the feel of stubble, then straightened out his clothes.

"You're still gonna deny the fact that you like it?" Repo sneered behind him. "Whatever, I don't give a fuck right now. I'm gonna go get something to eat."

"What? No!" Nathan exclaimed, dashing around the bed and out the door.

He skidded to a halt, cast a look around the hall for his other half, and froze. Shilo was in the hall as well, staring at her father curiously. Awkwardly, Nathan ran a hand through his hair.

"H-Hey, honey," he stammered, forcing a smile.

She gave him an awkward smile back, then looked away quickly and moved to slip past him. Swiftly, Nathan stepped in front of her, blocking her way. As she tried to slide around him, he countered, trapping her between his body and the wall. She looked up at him in surprise, a touch of worry on her face.

"Hey, it's all right," Nathan said soothingly. "I just wanted to apologize. I, I didn't mean to snap at you like that earlier."

"I know," Shilo mumbled, shuffling and blushing a little, unable to look at him.

For the first time, Nathan realized just how close they were to each other. If he just pressed forward a little, he'd have her pinned and at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted and she'd be powerless to stop him.

"Do you?" he asked quietly, fighting the feelings in him as he gently tipped her face towards his.

"I-I think so," his daughter said, just as quietly. "You-You were tired and hurting and – Oh, Daddy, what happened? What _really_ happened?"

Shilo ran fingertips gently down his cut, bruised, and swollen face-barely touching his skin but making him wince nonetheless-before laying her hand on his chest, over the bandages there. He pulled her into his arms, careful not to hold her too tight to his sore chest, and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"I wish you wouldn't ask such things," Nathan whispered. "Shouldn't the only thing that matters be the fact that I'm here and I love you?"

"I guess," Shilo murmured, nuzzling his chest a little.

He kissed her head again, just as gentle, then she pushed him away with her nose wrinkled. Nathan chuckled a little.

"I'm sorry, dear, I know. I was just about to take a bath," he told his daughter, taking a few steps back.

He wanted to say something more, but he didn't know what, so he just ducked his head and slunk quickly to the bathroom. Swinging the door shut behind him, he examined his face in the mirror, gingerly probing his injuries. Pain lanced through his face and, wincing, he sucked in a pained hiss. He about looked like he'd been run over by a truck. Slowly he shrugged his shirt off and moved to remove his bandages.

"Oh, fuck," Nathan snarled through gritted teeth, his arms screaming as they burned with pain. The relief he'd gotten from his nap was gone thanks to him running around like he was unbroken.

Soft fingers touched his shoulder, startling him.

"Here, let me help," Shilo said quietly, a bit nervously.

"Shilo, I –"

"Shh, Daddy, just, stop being so pigheaded for a while," she told him sternly.

Nathan stood stock-still, his heart pounding against his ribs as his daughter carefully peeled the bandages off of his chest. He heard her suck in a surprised gasp as the gauze came away. Her hand shyly, haltingly approached his chest and lightly touched the stitched gashes, his skin still slightly red and puffy.

"Does, does it hurt?" Shilo whispered.

"Only a little," he lied, laying his hand on top of hers.

Nathan wanted to tell her to leave but the words were stuck in his throat. Her hand slid out from under his and traveled down his stomach, gently brushing against his crotch in a way that seemed accidental but for some reason he thought wasn't. Wishful thinking. No, not wishful thinking, just his imagination fucking with him for some ungodly reason. She touched him again, longer this time but still seemingly unintentional, then blushed and snatched her hand away.

"I, uh, I'm gonna, gonna start you a bath, okay?" Shilo stammered, quickly turning away and taking a few steps from him.

Nodding silently, Nathan tried his best to ignore the stiffening sensation in his pants. Good God, what was wrong with him? Getting turned on by the slightest, most accidental touches, for shame.

Behind him, he heard the water start to fill the tub and he took a deep, uneasy breath before turning around. Shilo was standing by the tub and he smiled a little, then felt his mouth go dry as she leaned bent over to test the water temperature, her short nightgown hitching up and exposing her white-pantied bottom to him. His mind went blank and he had to struggle to keep his mouth from falling open.

A chuckle rumbled deep in his mind. **I think the response you're looking for is –** There was the phantom sensation of biting his lower lip. **– "dat ass".**

_You be quiet!_ Nathan spat as he started slowly, unconsciously moving toward the tub.

Shilo straightened as he came up behind her, shaking the water off of her arm. Her wig had parted when she leaned over and left a portion of her pale neck exposed when she stood. Gently and unthinking, Nathan ran a single fingertip down her spine, smirking at the goosebumps that rose up on her skin. His finger slid lower, tugging the collar of her nightgown down a little as he leaned down, and he felt her shudder as his breath washed over her skin. Slowly, slowly, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against the back of her neck and heard her breath hitch. God, he wanted nothing more than to lick her, to taste her skin.

"Shi-Shilo, I-I think you should go," Nathan rasped, fighting the urge that seemed to scream from every cell in his body, demanding that he slide his hands beneath her nightgown. "I-I c-can handle it, from here, honey."

Shilo didn't move, not even when her father's hand trailed light fingertips down her spine, touching just enough to be felt through the cloth. Nathan felt so hot, though he couldn't tell if the heat was coming from inside him or from the steaming water in the bathtub; it was starting to get difficult to breathe. He wished she would leave; it was getting harder and harder for him to refrain from peeling her nightgown off and letting his lips and tongue follow the path his fingers had taken. Hooking his free hand around her hair, his other being clenched in a tight fist by his side, he pulled it over her shoulder, exposing the side of her neck for an instant before he covered it with his mouth. Beneath his lips, he felt her shudder at the same time a soft moan reached his ears.

He felt a growl rumble softly in his throat and her hand find its way to his knee, squeezing him gently. God, she felt so good, _tasted_ so good, felt so _right_, despite just how fucking wrong it was. Slow and shy, Shilo's hand traveled up his thigh, toward his rapidly growing erection. Nathan caught her hand just before it reached his crotch.

"Shilo," he said, his voice low and thick and rough, "I-I need t-to get in the tub, whi-which means you have to go."

The deluded part of his brain thought that the whimper she made when his mouth left her skin sounded disappointed, like she didn't want him to stop. "B-But Dad," she said breathlessly, clearly trying to keep her voice steady, "h-how are you going to, get your grody hair washed? You-You could barely get your hands up to take your bandages off."

"Shi-"

"I won't look, I promise!" Shilo said, spinning around to face him. "You could, you could put a washcloth over, over your, your, well, you…"

She cast a quick glance down at his crotch and turned even redder than she already was as she looked away. Nathan noticed the stretched fabric of his pants and blushed as well. Mentally, he kicked himself for letting himself get aroused. He really, _really_ shouldn't have let that happen, shouldn't be having these feelings in the first place. He wanted her to leave, but something told him she wasn't going to.

**No, she's just as fucking stubborn as **_**you**_** are,** Repo growled.

Nathan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, ignoring the ache in his arms for as long as possible, which didn't last much more than about three-fourths of a second. "Fine, sweetheart," he said, caving. "But you have to turn around while I, uh, get in."

Shilo took a few steps to the side and faced away from him. Her father started unbuckling his belt, then stopped, shooting her an uneasy and slightly suspicious glance.

"A-And cover your eyes."

With an annoyed sigh, Shilo complied. Still watching her, Nathan quickly slipped out of his pants and stepped into the tub, sinking into the hot water with a pleased groan. The heat was delicious to his aching muscles. Eyeing the washcloth perched on the rim, he left it where it was and grabbed the towel off the floor next to him, laying it over his lap and tucking the edge under his legs. He didn't trust the much smaller square of terrycloth.

"Y-You can turn around now," Nathan said shyly.

Just as shy, his daughter did so. He couldn't help but notice that her eyes flicked immediately to his crotch and he was thankful (or perhaps cursing the fact) that the towel was there. And so much for her promise. Shilo came around behind him, obviously trying not to stare at his bare skin and failing, gently running a hand over his shoulder when she was close enough to him. He shivered at her touch.

They were playing a dangerous game, the two of them, walking the thin line between right and wrong, truth and denial, control and surrender. He'd risked stepping a toe on the wrong side of the line and he needed to stop; if he wasn't careful, if he went too far, he didn't think he'd be able to turn back. Nathan groaned a little when he felt Shilo touch his hair. She clucked in disapproval.

"How'd you let it get so gross, huh?" Shilo asked softly, teasingly chiding.

"It's just what happens when I don't wash it for a few days," her father responded with a quiet chuckle.

**And when you sweat like a fucking pig multiple times.****..**

"I guess I'm lucky I don't have to worry about that," Shilo said, a note of amusement in her voice.

Nathan laughed again, with slightly less humor than before. "Yeah, I suppose."

Shilo trailed a fingertip down the back of her father's neck, mimicking his actions from earlier, making him shudder and suppress a moan. How could such a small touch make him react this way?

"Close your eyes," she told him, voice barely above a whisper.

With some trepidation, Nathan swallowed nervously and did so. He thought he felt her lips brush against his shoulder before water poured over his head, streaking down his face and neck. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she continued, ensuring that his scalp got dampened. Hearing the shampoo bottle click open, he swiped the water off of his face and leaned back a bit. This time he couldn't suppress the moan as she began shampooing. It felt so good, her fingers running through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as she scrubbed the grime away. Nathan heard Shilo giggle behind him.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

She giggled again and tugged at his hair. Bringing his hand up, he found that she'd pulled his sudsy hair into spiky clumps. Nathan laughed, genuine and hearty, and Shilo giggled even harder than before. The air seemed lighter, the tension between them gone, if only for the moment. As soon as Shilo finished rinsing the shampoo from his hair, however, it came rushing back, that awkward sense of holding back wants and needs. Nathan ran a hand uneasily through his clean, damp hair.

"Th-Thank you, precious," he said awkwardly. "You can g—"

"But how are you going to wash your back?" she asked quickly, cutting him off before he could finish what he was saying.

Nathan sighed. Sometimes Shilo was too headstrong for her own good. "Fine," he ceded, exasperated. "Go ahead."

As soon as the first word was out of his mouth, a warm, damp washcloth started gently scrubbing his shoulders. It surprised him a little; she must have had it ready and waiting. He made a soft, disappointed sound when the cloth left his skin and then the smell of soap filled the air, something crisp and clean and just altogether soap. Another moan escaped him when Shilo resumed washing his back. It felt nice, a very caring and loving gesture, and even better than when Tonya had cleaned him after the little, incident, in Rotti's office.

**Not that that wasn't nice,** his other half commented.

_That, that was degrading,_ Nathan returned a bit weakly. _I-I don't know how you could have enjoyed that._

Repo snorted. **What the hell is degrading about having a pretty young girl rub you all over? It gives us all sorts of lovely hot, tingly feelings, doesn't it?**

Phantom fingertips ran along Nathan's cock.

**Especially here.**

Water poured down his back as Shilo rinsed the lather off.

_M-Maybe for you,_ Nathan snapped.

Repo laughed. **You, me, us, it's all the same.**

Nathan grit his teeth together to keep from moaning when that phantom hand firmly gripped his semi-stiff dick at the same time Shilo's bare hands touched his shoulders, gently squeezing and kneading the muscles beneath her palms. Closing his eyes, he leaned into her touch and tried to ignore the feelings in his groin. Her soft fingers traveled down across his back, stroking every inch of his exposed skin (though not dipping below the waterline). He shivered a little when warm breath brushed against the back of his neck, then made a soft, surprised sound as her lips touched that same skin, her hands sliding back upward and running over his shoulders and onto his chest. He caught her hands and held them in place above his collarbones.

"Sh-Shilo, honey," Nathan began with a stammer, ignoring the voice in his ear that was telling him to pull those small, pale hands down into his lap.

"Yes, Daddy?" she asked, soft and low and in his other ear, her fingers gently rubbing his skin.

"I-I can take it from here," Nathan told her.

"But –!"

"Shilo," he said sternly. "I need to deal with some very, private, things."

**I don't think she'd mind. In fact, I think she'd be delighted if you asked her to help.**

"I'll tell you what," he went on, pretending he didn't hear the Repo man and cutting his daughter off before she could protest again. "You can help me redo my bandages, alright?"

"O-Okay," she mumbled, though he thought he caught a note of eagerness in her voice.

Giving him a kiss on the side of his neck that he wasn't entirely sure he could call "sweet" or "daughterly", Shilo quickly pulled her hands out of his. Nathan watched her leave out of the corner of his eye and when the door swung shut with a click he heaved a silent sigh of relief, sinking back against the tub.

"Now, to take care of some business," a rough, gravelly voice said, bringing his attention to the other end of the bathtub.

Repo was in the water with him now, lounged against the porcelain and his arms resting on the rim. He smirked at his other half, cocking his head to the side a little as he dipped a gloved hand into the water and slicked his hair back with it.

"Yes," Nathan replied, reaching behind him for the washcloth. "I need to finish bathing."

Repo chuckled as his other half's hand closed around the cloth he was looking for. "That's not exactly what I was thinking," he said, grabbing the edge of the towel and sliding off of Nathan's lap.

"I know it's not," Nathan spat, swatting his double's hand away from his crotch. "I _know_ what you're thinking and I don't like it."

"That's bullshit," Repo growled as Nathan started washing. "I've never heard of a man that didn't like the feel of his own hand. Unless…"

Nathan didn't respond, didn't look at the other as he diligently scrubbed the filth away.

"Unless of course," Repo went on in a growl, "it's not the way it feels that you're opposed to–" He grabbed Nathan's dick, making him moan. "–but the things you might think about when doing it."

"N-No! Let me go!" Nathan snarled as he tried to shove the dark thing's hand away, succeeding only in making those fingers tighten.

"I think not," the Repo man said quietly, starting to slowly stroke his other half's erection, "because you know I'm right. If I recall correctly, we had a rather delicious fantasy a few days ago. Something about the girl, in the kitchen and on the counter, with us listening to her make those magnificent sounds that make it _so_ hard to hold back as we slide our hands up under her skirt and –"

"Shut up!" Nathan yelped, shoving his dark side away with a foot to the chest.

Repo thudded against the side of the tub with a pained growl. "You stubborn fuck!" he practically roared. "Still, even after that little grope-fest you two had, you, you…" He snarled in frustration and kicked a wave of water at Nathan. "You want it, she wants it –"

"That's a goddamn lie!" Nathan spat.

He realized that his hand was shaking, blood now oozing from the stitched gash on his chest from him scrubbing so hard.

"A lie? Did you not pay any attention to the way she was looking at you? Touching you? _Kissing_ you?" Repo snorted. "No, I suppose I'm just misreading signals, right?"

"Y-Yes," Nathan stammered.

Before his doppelganger could reply to that, he hauled himself out of the tub, shoved Repo aside, and yanked the plug. Turning, he snatched up a fresh towel and commenced drying his skin, doing his best to keep blood off of the cloth. He pulled on his underwear and slacks and, giving himself a quick look in the mirror, swiftly grabbed up the medical supplies he needed, dropped them in the sink, and went to the door. His hand on the knob, Nathan froze.

"Coward," Repo snarled in his ear.

"Shut up," Nathan growled under his breath.

Taking a slightly shaky breath, he plastered a grin on his face and opened the door. Shilo was waiting on the other side, shifting anxiously. She smiled up at him when the door opened, then frowned when she saw his chest.

"You're bleeding" was all she said. Nathan's smile became very uncomfortable and awkward.

"I-It's nothing, just, I overworked myself a little," he said softly.

Her frown deepened. "If you'd let me stay," she began, running her fingertip lightly over his skin, just under the gash.

Nathan caught his daughter's hand. "Honey," he said sternly, trying to remain fatherly and somewhat aloof, "if I'd let you stay, I wouldn't have been able to finish washing, now would I?"

"No, I guess not," Shilo mumbled, sounding defeated.

"Well, she could have always helped," the dark thing growled in Nathan's ear. "And maybe helped you finish in, _other_, ways…"

Mentally shoving the other aside, Nathan gently guided Shilo farther into the bathroom, making sure to keep some distance between the two of them. As they reached the sink, she looked into it and pursed her lips in disapproval. She gave her head a small shake-perhaps annoyed by his disorganization-and wordlessly picked up the alcohol and a cotton ball, then carefully, gently dabbed the dampened bit of fluff over his wounds. Nathan felt his hands clench into fists as he stifled a pained hiss at the sting of alcohol in his still tender cuts.

Shilo leaned forward and blew softly on his skin in an effort to soothe the burn. When the antiseptic had evaporated, she leaned forward and gently kissed his chest at the spot where several gashes intersected, making his teeth and fists clench even more. He wished she would stop doing things like that; it only made his other half cockier and gave him even more things to throw in Nathan's face as false evidence.

As gingerly as she could, Shilo laid gauze pads over his wounds and bound them in place-not too loose, not too tight-with long strips wrapped around his chest. The rest of his injuries were tended with the same gentle, careful touch and in the same pattern: clean, kiss, bind. Nathan's teeth were grit so tightly that he feared they might crack, but it was the only way he could keep calm and quiet.

Finishing with the last injury-taping the gash on her father's nose-Shilo gave him a soft, cockeyed smile, one that he couldn't help but return. His smile faltered a little when he realized that her fingers were still on his face, lingering on his skin with a touch that was feather-light but electric. It seemed to occur to Shilo as well, for an instant later she snatched her hands away, blushing as she awkwardly tried to maintain her grin. Nervously, Nathan licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"Th-Thank you, darling, f-for your help," he stammered.

His daughter blushed even more and looked at the floor. "You're welcome, Daddy," she mumbled.

"Hey," Nathan began softly, cupping Shilo's cheek and tipping her face toward him, "I mean it. I couldn't have done it on my own."

"Well, I-I'd do anything for you, Dad."

"I know," Nathan said, his voice still soft and his smile strengthening as he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb.

He leaned down to kiss her on the other cheek, but either she shifted at the last moment or he miscalculated and their lips met instead. A spark shot through Nathan with an almost audible crackle and he froze, unsure of what to do, especially since he could tell that Shilo had tensed. He should pull away, but what if he did it too quickly, would it only make the situation more awkward? And how did he address it once his mouth was free? God, how little part of him cared about any of that; all that mattered was how badly it wanted him to stay there, to turn the awkward kiss into something far more passionate, to touch and taste and –

No. He shouldn't be thinking like that, he – He felt a hand creep onto the back of his neck, but not the one he was half-expecting. It wasn't cold and covered in leather, but small and soft and warm, pulling him toward Shilo as she pressed closer to him. Something in Nathan snapped. With a growl, his hands went to her hips and he pushed her up against the wall as he deepened the kiss, though not too much, as he didn't want to frighten or hurt her.

Shilo made a soft sound like a moan, returning the kiss with the clumsiness of inexperience. He couldn't keep himself from grinding against her; it just felt _so damn good_, so good to be grinding against something that was neither inorganic nor his own hand. And then, oh God _then_, her hand ran gently down over his chest and stomach to his crotch and tentatively clasped his erection through his pants. Nathan moaned and pressed against her more, kissed her harder, with his tongue slinking forward in search of her mouth. Something prickled in the back of his mind as his hands slid lower only to creep back upward, slipping beneath the hem of her nightgown, but he ignored it, being too caught up in the feelings ringing through him to care about that nagging sensation.

_What the hell do you think you're doing?_

The thought cracked through his head like a gunshot in a still night. Dear God, what _was_ he doing? Nathan pushed himself back a few steps and turned away from Shilo, covering his mouth with the back of one hand. Panting, shaking, he closed his eyes and tried to regain his poise.

"Sh-Shilo, you should, you should go," he rasped dryly, trying to keep his voice from shaking and utterly failing.

"Bu-But Daddy, I –"

"No Shilo!" Nathan barked, still not looking at her. "No buts! N-Now just, just go to your room! A-And don't leave it until I say you can!"

He heard her make a strained, squeaking noise and run out of the room, her bare feet slapping on the tile. Images and sensations from the past few minutes flickered through his head as he stumbled back over to the sink, blindly turned it on, and almost frantically splashed cold water on his face. The frigid liquid chilling his skin did nothing to calm the fire burning in his veins, nor did it stop the memories swirling through his brain.

A laugh, colder than ice, reached Nathan's ears and his head snapped up quickly. "_You_," he snarled, sounding eerily like his doppelganger. "How could you do that?"

"Me?" the thing lurking over his shoulder growled. "I didn't do a goddamn thing. That was _all you_, darlin'."

"No!" Nathan shouted, shaking his head as he continued. "No, no, no, no, NO! I-I never would have done that if you hadn't of tricked me!"

The Repo man looked offended.

"You turned an innocent mistake into something, something that shouldn't have been!"

"Please," Repo sneered. "If I'd had anything to do with that, there would have been a hell of a lot more than kissing and groping going on, believe you me. Besides, how exactly did I 'trick' you? What? I made you hear moans of desire instead of cries of protest?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," Nathan growled.

Repo's lip curled up in a snarl. "Now you know damn well that you didn't feel me at all during that."

Nathan didn't say anything to that; he simply looked away from the mirror quickly.

"Just admit it: neither of you wanted that to stop."

"No! That's not true!"

"After what just happened, how the hell can you still deny it? Let me put it simply and slowly so you'll understand: She. Grabbed. Your. Dick. That's as clear of a 'let's fuck' indicator as I ever saw one."

"Liar! Shut up!" Nathan roared, slamming his fist into the mirror.

Pain shot through his left hand as pieces of broken mirror slashed open his knuckles. Slowly pulling his hand back, Nathan stared down at it, dumbfounded; just stared at the shards of silvered glass jutting from his torn and bleeding knuckles. He flexed and unflexed his fingers, teeth bared in an agonized grimace as the slivers tore his flesh further. Good. It wasn't enough, no not yet, not enough to pay for what he'd done, but it was a start.

"I thought you didn't like self-inflicted pain…"

Nathan's attention snapped back to the shattered mirror, where only the leering form of his dark half could be seen, his image splintered and kaleidoscopic in the fractured glass.

"Be. Quiet," Nathan growled through gritted teeth.

"Why?" Repo snarled back. "Why don't I get to say anything? The things you do piss me off just as much as the things I do you, but _you_ get to keep on talking and doing whatever the hell you feel like no matter what while _I_ have to sit here and watch your stupidity."

"Shut. _Up_."

"No. I won't just sit here and be subject to your hypocrisy," he growled. "I have just as much right as you to speak my mind and just because you don't like what I have to say –"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Nathan roared, hooking his fingers around one side of the mirror and violently yanking it off the wall.

It tumbled through the air and landed face-up on the floor with a crash, pieces of glass bursting from the frame and tinkling fragilely as they cascaded to the tile. Nathan stood there staring at the glassy carnage, his chest heaving and his hands curled painfully into fists. Once his breathing returned to a semi-reasonable state, he cautiously shuffled over to the mess he'd made and looked down at it. The fragments of mirror that had broken when he punched it were now scattered on the floor, leaving only an empty space in the frame. The rest of it had stayed more or less in place, though it too was now broken thanks to the force of the impact.

There was no sign of the other in the shards of silvered glass littering the floor and still clinging hopelessly to the frame, only himself staring back, shattered and warped though the reflection was. Shaking his head, Nathan took a few steps back, stumbling a little before charging out of the bathroom and his house altogether, trying to outrace himself.

**A/N: Oh, no, that didn't take _far_ too long to write or anything... Although, in all fairness, I _was_ working on some other things as well**. **Hopefully things don't feel _too_ repetitive (I've noticed I kinda go in cirlces... ... It's Nathan's fault, that stubborn bastard...) *lau****g****hs* Looking at my previous author's notes, I say hopefully it won't be four months in between... Well, in all fairness it wasn't *four* months this time! Ach, I been busy, working on introducing Clyde (who'll show up in a bit, I swear... If you'd like to meet him you can find him on my deviantArt or longer, pornier version here [or here if you'd like to see Leb's (delightfully filthy) drawing contribution]) and other, non-Repo! related things... I know, I actually do those, can you believe it?**

**Oh, and if the above left you pissed off and frustrated because Nathan's a stubborn bastard, maybe this will help... (Aye, pimping the hell out of my stuff... It's just, I'm not sure I wanna post the latter on here, as it's pretty much straight up porn... I-I feel bad about posting stuff like that here...)**


	8. Before the Storm

**IT'S ABOUT GODDAMN TIME, KAL**

* * *

"Hey, are you all right?"

The semi-familiar voice coupled with a light hand on his shoulder startled the hell out of Nathan, who was sitting on the floor of a rarely used hallway below GeneCo Tower. His skin barely hung on as he jumped and snapped toward the newcomer, his heart in his throat and thudding out a double-bass drum roll. He found the girl that had tended to him in Rotti's office (Tonya, wasn't it?) looking down at him in concern.

"Easy, now," she said, holding up her hands in a placating manner and speaking the same way a ranch-hand might to soothe a spooked horse. "It's just me."

Nathan self-consciously fiddled with his hair and clothes, trying to make it look as if he were simply flustered as opposed to scared witless. "I can see that," he snapped, clearly-and desperately-trying to save face. "What the hell are you doing down here?"

"Bringing you this," the young woman replied, tossing a pile of folded black leather down in front of him. His sturdy combat-type boots hit the floor next to it and his helmet-the one without the cracked Plexiglas visor-landed on top of it.

Nathan couldn't help but stare, bewildered, at the mass of black before him. "Where did you get that?" he asked, quiet but not meek.

"Your house," Tonya replied simply, leaning back against the wall and sliding to the floor next to him.

"What the hell were you doing in my house?" he growled quietly, not daring to look at her for fear of what he might do if he did.

"Calm down," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "Mr. Largo's the one that sent me on that little fetch-quest for it, said that you couldn't be expected to do your job without your uniform, so it's not like I was just cruising 'round your house for the hell of it. I was in and out almost before the door could even shut."

"That's not the point," Nathan said, feeling his voice and his blood start to rise. "You were in. My. Home."

She nudged him gently. "You're too damn high-strung, Nate. I mean, it's not like I _wanted_ to be in there, I was told to do that."  
"I don't care if you wanted to be in there or not! It's an invasion of my privacy and – !"

"Shut up, Nathan," Tonya spat. "You don't need to get nasty with me like that; there's no call for it. You wanna be pissed off at someone, you can go yell at the big boss man."

Caught off guard and cowed by her tone, Nathan blushed and looked at the floor. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled. "You're right. And I didn't mean to be so short with you, I just…"

"Have been stressed the fuck out lately? Hurting like hell? Trapped in a situation where nothing seems to be going right for you?" Tonya offered.

Nathan smiled thinly, humorlessly. "It's almost as if you know me," he said dryly.

The young woman shrugged. "I know the signs."

"Yes, well," Nathan began, rubbing his left temple with the heel of his hand, "let's just hope you don't assume too much about me."

Tonya seemed to think about it for a moment. "We-ell," she drawled, "if I don't think about it _too_ hard, I'd say you're a lonely, reclusive serial killer…"

"Ha-ha, you're very funny," Nathan sneered, unamused.

"Damn straight," she shot back, smirking. "I should be a fuckin' stand-up comedian."

"And give up all of this?" Nathan said with an encompassing wave of his hand. "A glorious life of home-invasion and coffee runs and –"

"Hey, I ain't a fucking gofer," she cut in contemptuously.

"No?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked. "Then what were you doing running errands?"

"The Macchiato Event," the girl returned flatly.

He blinked. "The what?"

Tonya sighed quietly. "It all happened a few weeks back," she began, sounding like a war-veteran recalling a particularly horrific battle. "One of the new gofers went to get Luigi's coffee, thought he'd switch things up. So instead of the usual-black, and as strong as you can find-this dumb kid came back with a non-fat, decaf caramel macchiato, extra whipped-cream." She shuddered at the memory. "God, it was awful; we lost 9 gofers, 4 GENterns, and a SurGEN that day. And there was so much blood, took us hours to clean it up."

"My God," Nathan said quietly after a moment, stunned. "I knew he took his coffee seriously but that… That's insane…"

"Yeah, well, at least everyone knows now not to fuck with Luigi's coffee," she replied with a shrug. "So as you can see, we're a little short-handed at the moment; I gotta help where I can."

"Sounds delightful," Nathan said absently, thoughtlessly rubbing the back of his left hand with his right thumb.

"Oh, yeah, tons of f— Holy hell, Nathan, what happened to you?" she asked, concerned, reaching for his hand. "You're even worse off than when I left you."

Nathan looked down at his hand, where his knuckles were still raw and bleeding. He'd plucked the slivers of mirror out of his hand on the way to the office building but it was still in agony. Flexing his hand-and forcing more blood to ooze to the surface in the process-he quickly tucked it into his pocket.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, staring at the floor.

Tonya sighed in annoyance and massaged her forehead. "Really, Nathan?" she asked, sounding exasperated. "Like I didn't just watch you look at your hand then stuff it in your pocket?"

"No," he shot back stubbornly and defiantly.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just remember that punching windows or mirrors or whatever you were going at it with is not a good idea. You wanna cut some tendons and not be able to use that hand at all?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it'd get me out of this job."

"You don't really believe that, do you? I mean, you signed a contract with Rotti fucking Largo; 'til death do you part."

"Yeah, yeah," Nathan grumbled before glancing over at the girl and noticing the bandages covering her hands and forearms, only the tips of her fingers left unwrapped. He frowned. "You don't look so good yourself."

Tonya looked down at the bandages as if she just remembered they were there. "Oh, it's nothing," she fumbled, nervously rubbing her knees.

"Doesn't look like nothing," Nathan said gently. "Did, did your father do that?"

"What?! N-No, i-it was a cooking accident. I was cooking and a fuck-ton of hot oil went all over my arms. Burnt the shit outta me, I had to get skin grafts," she said with a falsely nonchalant shrug. "Weird thing was I kinda smelled like bacon."

Nathan couldn't keep the horror from his face. "Th-that's awful!" he spluttered. "Are, are you sure you're all right?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," the young woman said, nodding.

He looked at her bandaged hands and forearms in concern. "Maybe I should take a look, just to be sure. I might be a bit rusty, but I can tell whether or not something's healing the way it should be."

Tonya recoiled as if an angry, hissing cobra had come slithering out of his mouth instead of a few simple words. Quickly and defensively, she folded her arms tightly across her chest.

"N-No, it's fine, it doesn't hurt or anything and I just had one of the in-house doc's take a look at it earlier," she stammered, avoiding his eyes.

"Oh, okay then."

He was surprised by just how disappointed he sounded and he couldn't be sure as to why he'd felt that in the first place. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed to like him, or, at the very least, she didn't shit on him every chance she had. Maybe it was simply that she was roughly Shilo's age and his fatherly instincts were kicking in. Whatever the reason, he was pretty sure it was contributing to the guilty feeling that was settling into his gut at making the young woman visibly uncomfortable. She was quiet now, arms still tight to her chest and her eyes refusing to turn his way, instead choosing to focus an apparently fascinating pattern in the dust coating the already dull and lifeless grey-olive tile that they were sitting on.

Nathan mentally kicked himself. He shouldn't have pushed the subject; it was clearly none of his business. Besides, she'd said she was fine, who was he to doubt her? But there was something that made him almost _need_ to know what she was hiding, a prickling uncertainty and suspicion in the back of his mind. It was almost as if—

"Hey, I, uh, I hope this isn't too forward or anything," the young woman began, finally turning to look at him again, though in a sketchy, flighty way, "but, uh, I got you something…"

Nathan felt his brow furrow in confusion (and pain, thanks to the cuts and bruises still marring his face). What on earth could she possibly have for him? It's not like they were friends, like she knew him, so why – ?

His thought was cut off by several incredibly graphic and mildly disturbing images of himself and the girl in the midst of various sex acts, images that surprisingly didn't make him feel as guilty or ashamed as he should have been; rather, they electrified and excited him. He caught himself eying Tonya, lingering on her mouth, tracing the curve of her neck and down over the subtle swell of her breasts to the dressings on her arms, bringing him back to the manner at hand. Nathan shook his head slightly to clear it, annoyed with himself that he'd gotten distracted.

"What is it?" he asked softly, giving her a small, encouraging smile that belied the filthy maelstrom of his thoughts.

"Well, I overheard Mr. Largo talking about the assignment he's sending you on and thought I'd help. So, I talked to a guy who knows a guy who always seems to know what's going on and _he_ said that the knock-offs haven't exactly made it to Sanitarium yet, only coming in pre-installed, y'know? But he heard from a friend on the mainland that they're seeing more and more folks scoring Z that _aren't _coming from GeneCo operations, and his friend ain't sure yet if it's good for business or not."

He looked at Tonya curiously, mind whirring as it tried to make sense of what she told him. "I'm not sure I'm following here. This business is – ?"

"Not exactly legitimate."

"Drugs," he said flatly. "Your sources are drug dealers."

"Among other things, yes. At least, the guy that my guy knows is; as for the dude on the mainland, no fucking clue."

A grave robber. Nothing else he could be. Nathan couldn't suppress a sneer. Scum. They were the scourge of GeneCo's existence, always desecrating corpses and undercutting Rotti's profits and pushing their illicit Zydrate. Normally he didn't pay them much mind-they avoided him, he avoided them, especially since his job wasn't security-but there were times he'd come across one at his grisly work and it made him thankful that Marni was somewhere that they couldn't get their filthy hands on her.

"That's not important though," Tonya went on, bringing him out of his thoughts. "What _is_ important is the fact that you're not going to have any luck searching around here, which is why I went ahead and got you passage on the next supply-ferry out."

Nathan was taken aback. Well, that _was_ rather forward. "I, umm, that," he fumbled, trying to figure out how to gracefully decline her offer. "That's very nice but—"

"But nothing, Nathan," she said, cutting him off. "Look, I'm just trying to help you out here, considering that you really don't have much of a choice in the matter. Mr. Largo's sending you out on a job, and you know damn well that you'd better do it, and do it right or else you'll have the face the consequences. And they won't be pretty."

Tonya stood abruptly, rummaged about in her pockets for a moment, and finally produced a small, plastic card, which she then handed to him.

"They're setting out in about an hour from the eastern docks. You'd better be there, or it'll be my ass as well as yours that's in the line of fire, got it?"

He nodded.

"Good. Show 'em that card, they'll know you're supposed to be there. I also booked you a room at a motel, the Rusted Scalpel-a shit-hole, but if you work quick you won't be there too long-same deal: show 'em the card, you'll get your keys."

Before he could respond, the young woman turned and sauntered off. He couldn't help but stare, watching the way she moved: a sort of utilitarian grace, like a wild animal, where no movement was wast—

"Oh," Tonya said suddenly, turning back to him. Nathan blushed a little, ashamed at being caught staring. "One more thing you should know: there's talk-nothing more than deep underground rumors at this point, mind you-of some bad shit happening to GeneCo employees over there, so, watch your ass."

Giving him a small smile and wave, she took a few steps backward and then to the side, disappearing around a corner and presumably down a hall. Nathan sighed, left alone again, and turned to the plastic in his hand. It was GeneCo green, with the company logo stamped in the top left corner, his picture printed below that and his name across the right-hand side in the white capitals of a Spartan font, not unlike a security badge or identification card. He turned it over in his hand as he did the same to the thoughts in his head.

Clearly the young woman didn't expect his journey to be a short one; otherwise she wouldn't have bothered to rent him a room in a motel. He really didn't like the sound of that as it meant leaving Shilo alone for God knew how long. But then, he really didn't have a choice, did he? Especially not if he wanted to keep his blood where it belonged, and he was rather fond of it staying inside his veins.

With a quiet sigh, he tucked the card into his breast pocket. Might as well get it over with. Nathan sighed again and punched the button on his wrist-com to dial Shilo. The dial tone sounded flatly once, twice, thrice. By the fourth time it buzzed tonelessly, panic had wrapped around his throat and squeezed tight. It toned a fifth time and he found that he couldn't breathe. A sixth time and then:

"Hey Daddy." She sounded breathless and that worried him.

"Is everything all right, sweetheart?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh, y-yeah, I'm fine," Shilo answered, verbally waving away his concern.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's just fine."

"Then why did it take you so long to answer?"

"I-I was busy."

Nathan frowned at the hologram and wished it was a live feed rather than the mostly static picture. He suspected she was lying but he couldn't tell for sure, unable to see her face.

"What were you doing?" Nathan pressed. "You know you're supposed to keep your com on you at all times."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, okay?" she huffed, sounding annoyed.

"You don't need to take that tone with me, young lady," Nathan said through gritted teeth, trying to keep from snapping at her. Hadn't he done enough to push her away already? "Just, promise me you'll keep it with you from now on, all right?"

"I-I will," Shilo said softly, evidently chastised. "Is, is something wrong?"

Nathan pulled his free hand down his face. "No, darling, nothing's wrong, it's just…" He sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and slowly let it out. "Shilo, honey, I, I have to go on a trip for work."

"A trip? W-What do you mean?" Shilo asked, echoing the concern in his own voice.

"I… I have to go to the mainland for a bit for a, a, doctor's conference and I-I'll probably be away for a few days. I, can I trust you to stay on your own?"

"Yes!" she squealed, her excitement smothering her worry. "I-I mean, yeah, of course."

"I won't be able to be there if you need me, you know that, right? And you'll have to cook for yourself, and take your medicine on your own, and put yourself to bed, and—"

"Dad, I know, it's okay. I'll be fine," she cut in, using her most soothing voice.

"But – !"

"No, really, I know the rules, I know where the food is and how to make it, know how and when to take my meds. It'll be okay."

"Don't go outside," her father warned.

"I know."

"Don't talk to anyone that comes to the house, especially God-peddlers."

"I know."

"And don't let anyone in. At all."

"I know!" Shilo spluttered. "I _am_ almost seventeen, something _you_ should know."

"I do know that," Nathan told his daughter softly, "and that's why I worry."

"Well, you don't need to, okay? I can take care of myself; you go and have a good time at your conference. I love you, Daddy."

The line went dead before he had a chance to reply.

"I love you, too," he murmured to himself.

He considered calling her back but thought better of it. Best not to push too hard; doing so usually ended in a figurative "fuck you" of Shilo doing the exact opposite. Cheerlessly, he turned back to the jet stack at his feet and nudged it with a toe. He didn't want to put it on, didn't want to have anything to do with Rotti's little game of search-and-destroy, didn't want to leave his daughter alone for any longer than a few hours. Nathan scowled. If he didn't deserve every single torment that got thrown his way, he would have taken a knife to the fat bastard's throat years ago.

Then again, it wasn't too late, was it? And wouldn't it be nice to watch that arrogant son of a bitch splutter and gurgle as he drowned in his own blood, eyes wide with terror and impotent rage?

He was taken aback by the vehemence of the feelings coursing through him and firmly thrust them away. As quickly as he could make his aching body go, Nathan pushed himself up onto his feet, then reluctantly pulled his uniform on. The leather sank onto him, settling into its well-worn shape and conforming to the unique form of his body, which it knew intimately. He shuddered, hating the way it clung to him and the things it had seen him do. Helmet tucked under one arm, he headed for the exit as rapidly as he could, trying to leave his thoughts behind him.

About halfway to the door he nearly tripped over something in the middle of the hallway. He barked a curse, pissed off, and turned to find out what the fuck he'd stumbled over. A GENtern-one of the nameless horde-lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of her own blood, her jaw half ripped off and her stomach torn open, intestines looped on the tiles like ropes. Her hands were twitching, too weak to reach the wounds they were desperately trying to cover, and she was breathing in short, shallow, ragged gulps, clearly her last. He studied her with cold eyes and a sneer on his face that would have curdled milk. Without thinking about what he was doing, Nathan slid one booted foot closer to her, lifting his toes off the floor as he did so, and pressed down against one of those coils lightly. The woman let out a soft groan that turned into a scream as he applied pressure, his sneer lifting into a sadistic grin. He crushed the organ beneath his boot, listening to her shriek grow louder before fading into a faint gurgling sound as she passed out or died, he wasn't sure which. Either way, he frowned and removed his foot, the game over. It just wasn't fun if they didn't scream.

Nathan caught himself, caught the things he was thinking and feeling, and felt his bile rise. Fighting down the urge to vomit, he nearly ran out of the building, every other step slapping wetly against the floor. He couldn't believe he did that, couldn't believe how much he'd enjoyed it. It made him feel… alive, and powerful, though not as much as if he'd gutted her himself and held onto her, feeling her heart gradually slow and stop under his hands. Oh, God, he had to get out of here. Not even pausing to pull on his helmet, Nathan broke into a run, only staggering to a stop when a fiery stitch in his side nearly made him collapse. Wheezing, he slumped heavily against the cold wall of a building to wait out the pain, wonderfully unaware of anything but the hot knife in his side. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing.

"Hey, mister, you okay?" a female voice asked behind him.

Nathan pressed his face against the soothing cement. "I'm fine," he mumbled, hopefully loud enough to be heard and wishing she'd go away.

"You sure?"

"I said I'm fine," he snarled, snapping away from the wall but not turning toward the woman. He could just barely see her over his shoulder: an ambiguous smudge on the edge of his vision.

"All right, all right, no need to bite my head off, I'm just trying to help," she said.

"Please just leave me alone," he growled.

"I'm going, I'm going," she replied, taking a step back, out of his line of sight. "I – Hey, did you drop something? There's a —"

She went real quiet real fast, the scared kind of quiet that comes right before panic. He heard something thump loudly on the pavement, presumably from the woman dropping whatever she'd been holding, and then the shuffling scrape of someone stumbling back in fright.

"Oh, oh, God, I'm so sorry," she spluttered, still fumbling away from him. "I-I didn't, didn't realize you were a, a – I always pay my bills on time, I swear, never made a late payment at all."

The woman went on in this vein as she fled from him in horror, tripping over her own feet in her hurry from the sound of it. When her voice finally faded to nothing, he turned to see what had spooked her, stopping and stooping as his boot bumped something. He picked up his helmet with a sigh and stared down at it, the mask forlornly returning his stare with its Plexiglas eyes.

"It's all right," he told it for some inexplicable reason, gently stroking the top edge. "Don't look at me like that, it's not my fault. They just don't understand. But I do, because we're the same, you and I: hard and terrifying on the outside—"

He flipped it over and stared at the opening.

"And hollow on the inside."

He was torn between laughing at the absurdity of him talking to his mask and crying at the frightening truth of his statement. Almost as if in protest to his thoughts_,_ an icy sensation started creeping into his limbs, and he shook himself all over before cracking a thin, humorless grin.

"Then again, maybe not," he went on, turning the helmet over in his hands. "Maybe it's just the opposite: I'm too damn full."

Nathan barked a dry, harsh laugh at that (how _could _he feel empty, there were too many people clamoring in his skull) and pulled the helmet over his head. Best get going, he didn't want to miss his ferry and fuck up the whole assignment because he was standing here talking to himself.

_I'm sure Rotti would _completely _understand,_ he thought sarcastically as he stalked off through the streets. _And he'd show me how much with a swift boot to the face._

Much to his surprise, where he'd stopped to catch his breath and inadvertently terrified the would-be helpful woman wasn't too far from the docks. He didn't think he'd ran for that long, and a quick glance the clock in the small booth by the gate showed that he still had a little over a half an hour before his ferry was scheduled to leave. He'd moved too quickly for his schedule, but unfortunately not fast enough to leave himself behind. Damn. He was about to turn and leave, to find something to do to wile away the time, when the bored-looking young man in the glass box looked up from his magazine and called out to him.

"Can I help you?" the boy asked, sounding slightly defensive, the way people do when they find someone where they're not supposed to be.

Nathan huffed and swept up to the window, drawing himself up to his full height and trying to sneer down at the boy, his efforts made futile through the plastic and leather. The young man merely blinked at him.

"Can I _help_ you?" he repeated, starting to sound annoyed.

"There's supposed to be a place for me on one of these ships," Nathan replied after a moment of gathering his thoughts and trying to speak them in a way that made sense.

The boy in the booth frowned a little. "I didn't know we'd hired anyone new. Do you have your paperwork?"

Nathan stared at the youth, bewildered. "Do I _look_ like a sailor?"

"Well, no, not really," the young man replied, looking Nathan up and down. The corner of his mouth curled in an unpleasant grin. "Though you do look like you wouldn't mind being underneath one."

"Listen here, you obnoxious little shit," Nathan seethed, yanking his helmet off and glaring through the glass. "I've got a goddamn job to do here and you're holding me up. I'm not sure how Mr. Largo would feel if I told him that you were the one keeping me from some very important work."

He couldn't help but feel a bit of smug satisfaction as the boy stared at him in bug-eyed shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Fishing the card from his pocket, Nathan slammed it against the booth, sending the window rattling.

"Now," he went on with a growl, "I was supposed to show you this and you were supposed to, well, I don't know exactly. But it sure as hell wasn't to give me grief."

"J-Just a second," the boy spluttered, practically giving his magazine a toss and grabbing a binder from underneath the desktop. He mumbled feverishly to himself as he flipped through pages, occasionally glancing back up to the plastic ID card in Nathan's hand. After a moment, he looked up with a shaky smile. "H-Here you are: Nathan Wallace, Repo man, ID number RTI5-81CH. Says here you're on the _Steel Lady_. She's in dock F, slip 66, all the way at the end. And I'm sorry about yelling, we get hobos around here all the time and —"

"Save your breath," Nathan snarled, palming the card and striding into the harbor.

Steel and concrete hummed dully beneath his boots and his nose wrinkled as he dodged still machinery and shipping crates. Even on the water, the island stank of industrialization-oil and metal and decay-perhaps even worse. He caught himself wondering about his destination, what it looked and smelled like; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been off the island. Had he ever left?

The booming clang of metal and the shouts of men startled him back to the real world, curiosity forgotten, at least for the moment. He found himself staring down a long pier, at the end of which he presumed was the _Steel Lady_, since it appeared to be the only ship showing any sort of activity at this unholy hour. Nathan briskly trotted down the wharf, lights and shouts growing louder the closer he came. The _Lady_ looked less like the ferry he'd been imagining in his head and more like a small, repurposed oil tanker. She was crawling with men, scuttling here and there, presumably making last minute preparations and loading the last bits of supplies. He had to cup his hands and shout to be heard over the din.

"Hello?" Nathan called.

A wiry man peered over the railing at him. "Who the hell are you?" he barked down.

"Is this the _Steel Lady_?"

"Yessir, what do you need?"

"I… Is there someone in charge that I can talk to?" Nathan hollered back, struggling not to croak. His throat was starting to get raw.

The man held up a single finger and disappeared. Moments later, another man, this one easily thrice as big as the first, came striding down the gangplank and towards Nathan. He came to stop just in front of him, settling into a wide, defensive stance with his arms crossed over his chest. Try as he might, he couldn't help but gawk at the man. Not quite as tall as Nathan (though few people were) he was seemed twice as wide, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with the physique of an older man maintained by hard labor rather than a gym, hair shorn short and bleached a grey-white non-color, and eyes of a faded blue. His clean-shaven face was lined and worn from sun and salt and wind.

"You wanted t' talk t' someone?" he asked with a half-sneer and a faint Southern accent.

"Yes, uh, Captain, I –"

The other man let out a rough guffaw and slid out of his defensive pose, tension easing. He spotted Nathan's confusion and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry to disappoint ya, but I ain't the captain. _He's_ in his office, overseein' some paperwork. 'M Bruce, his first mate, what can I do ya for?"

Nathan sighed and awkwardly began to explain the situation. Bruce watched him with mild interest, though there was something about the way he was watching Nathan that made him think that the other man picked up on more than he'd like to let on. He also couldn't help but notice that the hand that took his plastic ID card was missing the first finger and most of the second, and he thought he spied faint lines on the back, like a faded tattoo, but that could have just been a trick of the light playing across old, bulging veins. Bruce studied the card carefully for a moment.

"Hey, Harry?" he bellowed.

"Yes, sir?" came the response from somewhere on the ship.

"Ask the cap'n if he knows anything about a Nathan Wallace." He turned back to Nathan. "You do know we're a supply transport, right? Don't usually haul men, 'sides crew."

Nathan shrugged. "I just go where and do what I'm told," he replied, almost with a sigh.

The other man gave him a thin, knowing smile. "Don't we all."

Any response he was about to give was cut off by another man-presumably Harry-calling out to Bruce.

"He's right, Bruce. He's even on the manifest." Nathan thought he heard a stifled snigger. "Says here he's fragile, and we should handle him with care."

The rest of the crew didn't bother to stifle anything. He felt himself turn red-with embarrassment or anger, he wasn't sure which; maybe both-and stiffen. Giving him an almost apologetic smile, Bruce shrugged.

"Sorry, man, whoever set ya up must have a cruel sense o' humor. C'mon, I'll get ya settled in."

Wrapping a friendly arm around Nathan's shoulders, he led the taller man up the gangplank and onto the ship. The sway and creak of the metal beneath him put Nathan a little on edge, though it eased up a bit when Bruce found him a place to sit, out of the way of the work they were doing. The other man gave him a reassuring thump on his shoulder before rejoining his crew, roaring orders. Nathan watched them scurry back and forth for a bit, stacking boxes and crates on the deck and craning things in below, before tipping his head back and resting it against the slightly rusty wall. His mind started drifting almost as soon as his eyes shut. How could he be so tired? Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept.

He must have fallen asleep because he was completely unprepared for the way the ship lurched as she set out and nearly fell off of the upturned bucket he was sitting on. Despite the suddenness of the boat beneath him and the sleepy haze that still lurked in his head like a thick fog, Nathan managed to catch himself and maintain his seat. Groggily, he shook himself and rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand before hauling himself to his feet. He made his way over to the edge of the ship-mask clutched firmly in one hand-and leaned against the railing, tipping his head back and letting the salty breeze whip around him, stinging his face and mussing his hair. It felt nice, cold and clearing, and he let out a quiet, almost contended sigh.

"Wonderful, ain't it?" a gruff voice behind him asked.

He turned in time to see Bruce lean against the rail as well, a huge grin plastered on his face as he faced into the wind. Nathan wasn't sure what to make of the man, but it did no good to be rude, so he simply returned the expression and nodded, then realized that Bruce was facing away from him.

"Y-Yeah, it's great," he said aloud, hoping any redness in his face would be taken as caused by the biting wind, not his embarrassment.

"It's a little like flyin', only with your feet on somethin' solid, and if this old girl ends up sinkin', well, I can swim a helluva lot better than I can fly," Bruce finished with a laugh.

Nathan found himself joining in with the other's laughter. It was pleasant, to just laugh, and to hear someone laugh at something other than his misery, and that feeling lasted even as their laughter faded and the two men simply watched the ocean pass beneath them. Occasionally the ship would shudder a little and a limp, pale body would spin away from the hull, disappearing into the inky depths below. There were more than those floating at various depths in the water, bobbing and drifting ominously. Something in his stomach clenched at the sight, and he was glad the ship was so large; the last thing he wanted were those cloudy, lifeless eyes staring up at him accusingly.

"There's so many," Nathan murmured under his breath.

Much to his surprise, Bruce grunted in agreement; he hadn't thought he'd spoken loud enough for the other man to hear. "An' there seems to be more 'n more every day, though that could just be my head fuckin' with me."

"Where do they all come from?" Nathan asked, staring down at the water with a sick fascination.

The other man shrugged. "Dunno. People tryin' t' run 'cause they can't afford their fancy new organs, maybe, though I heard once that when the event happ'ned more folks died than could get buried so they just threw 'em into the sea."

Nathan frowned. "Then why are they still there?"

Another shrug. "Probably all the chemicals that've been dumped into the water. Killed a good bit o' the fish, preserved the bodies too I suppose. Don't seem all that far-fetched when you realize that nobody really knows what's in there. Hell, could be mostly formaldehyde now for all anyone knows."

"Jesus," Nathan said breathlessly.

The sailor barked a humorless laugh. "I don't think him or his old man're payin' attention anymore," he said flatly. "Not with –"

Bruce cut the thought short with an almost nervous glance over at Nathan, who knew-at least in general-what he was going to say, and understood his nervousness. He'd be worried too if he bad-mouthed a company with someone that was so close to the boss right next to him. Then again, he didn't really care. The man was right; GeneCo was a godless empire. Nathan opened his mouth to say as much, but just as he did, Bruce clapped him on the shoulder and excused himself, saying he had work to get to.

Nathan sighed and turned back to the sea, watching it foam against the ship's hull as she sliced through the water. He watched the sky as well, the clouds scuttling past, and caught the occasional glint of a star, which made him smile a little. He hadn't seen stars in ages, usually too preoccupied by being buried wrist-deep in some poor schmuck to look up; not that he would have seen any anyhow, not with all the light and smog that always hung in the air. Occasionally he would throw a glance forward, marveling each time at how much closer the far shore grew. The ship felt like it was barely moving at all, but the lights seemed to jump at him each time he looked back at them; they were going to get there in no time at all.

His stomach knotted up at that realization. Suddenly their destination seemed to loom over him and he turned quickly away, trying to focus on the wind against his face and not the nauseating tension in his gut, though it didn't work. Nathan choked down the bile that rose in his throat once, twice. The third time he couldn't stop himself and he vomited over the side, hoping that no one was around to see. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of one shaky hand and closed his eyes, staying leaned over the rail and just trying to breathe. He stayed like that for a long time, just breathing and feeling the wind lash his face, until he felt the boat clunk to a stop. Surprised, he opened his eyes and found himself in another dock, this one rustier and shabbier than the last. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to find Bruce smiling at him.

"Why don't you go on and clear outta here before we start unloadin', yeah?"

Nathan couldn't help but smile back and nod. "Yeah. Don't want to be in your way, do I?"

The big man guffawed. "Nope. Might get squarshed, and we don't want that." Bruce's smiled suddenly didn't seem to reach his eyes, and Nathan felt a cold shiver run up his spine. "That'd be, unfortunate."

Nathan nodded and smiled shakily back before stepping around the big man.

"Oh, and Nate? Be careful lookin' for them scoundrels."

He made it only a few paces before he froze, realization dawning on him: he hadn't said _anything_ to the man about what he was here to do, so how the hell did he know? Fear welling up, he started to run, but he didn't make it more than a few feet before huge, strong arms were wrapping around him. He started to yell and flail, trying to fight back, but a diminished hand pressed a cloth over his mouth and nose. The stench was acrid and chemical, making his nose and throat burn for a moment before everything went blissfully

"Hey, are you all right?"

The semi-familiar voice coupled with a light hand on his shoulder startled the hell out of Nathan, who was sitting on the floor of a rarely used hallway below GeneCo Tower. His skin barely hung on as he jumped and snapped toward the newcomer, his heart in his throat and thudding out a double-bass drum roll. He found the girl that had tended to him in Rotti's office (Tonya, wasn't it?) looking down at him in concern.

"Easy, now," she said, holding up her hands in a placating manner and speaking the same way a ranch-hand might to soothe a spooked horse. "It's just me."

Nathan self-consciously fiddled with his hair and clothes, trying to make it look as if he were simply flustered as opposed to scared witless. "I can see that," he snapped, clearly-and desperately-trying to save face. "What the hell are you doing down here?"

"Bringing you this," the young woman replied, tossing a pile of folded black leather down in front of him. His sturdy combat-type boots hit the floor next to it and his helmet-the one without the cracked Plexiglas visor-landed on top of it.

Nathan couldn't help but stare, bewildered, at the mass of black before him. "Where did you get that?" he asked, quiet but not meek.

"Your house," Tonya replied simply, leaning back against the wall and sliding to the floor next to him.

"What the hell were you doing in my house?" he growled quietly, not daring to look at her for fear of what he might do if he did.

"Calm down," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "Mr. Largo's the one that sent me on that little fetch-quest for it, said that you couldn't be expected to do your job without your uniform, so it's not like I was just cruising 'round your house for the hell of it. I was in and out almost before the door could even shut."

"That's not the point," Nathan said, feeling his voice and his blood start to rise. "You were in. My. Home."

She nudged him gently. "You're too damn high-strung, Nate. I mean, it's not like I _wanted_ to be in there, I was told to do that."  
"I don't care if you wanted to be in there or not! It's an invasion of my privacy and – !"

"Shut up, Nathan," Tonya spat. "You don't need to get nasty with me like that; there's no call for it. You wanna be pissed off at someone, you can go yell at the big boss man."

Caught off guard and cowed by her tone, Nathan blushed and looked at the floor. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled. "You're right. And I didn't mean to be so short with you, I just…"

"Have been stressed the fuck out lately? Hurting like hell? Trapped in a situation where nothing seems to be going right for you?" Tonya offered.

Nathan smiled thinly, humorlessly. "It's almost as if you know me," he said dryly.

The young woman shrugged. "I know the signs."

"Yes, well," Nathan began, rubbing his left temple with the heel of his hand, "let's just hope you don't assume too much about me."

Tonya seemed to think about it for a moment. "We-ell," she drawled, "if I don't think about it _too_ hard, I'd say you're a lonely, reclusive serial killer…"

"Ha-ha, you're very funny," Nathan sneered, unamused.

"Damn straight," she shot back, smirking. "I should be a fuckin' stand-up comedian."

"And give up all of this?" Nathan said with an encompassing wave of his hand. "A glorious life of home-invasion and coffee runs and –"

"Hey, I ain't a fucking gofer," she cut in contemptuously.

"No?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked. "Then what were you doing running errands?"

"The Macchiato Event," the girl returned flatly.

He blinked. "The what?"

Tonya sighed quietly. "It all happened a few weeks back," she began, sounding like a war-veteran recalling a particularly horrific battle. "One of the new gofers went to get Luigi's coffee, thought he'd switch things up. So instead of the usual-black, and as strong as you can find-this dumb kid came back with a non-fat, decaf caramel macchiato, extra whipped-cream." She shuddered at the memory. "God, it was awful; we lost 9 gofers, 4 GENterns, and a SurGEN that day. And there was so much blood, took us hours to clean it up."

"My God," Nathan said quietly after a moment, stunned. "I knew he took his coffee seriously but that… That's insane…"

"Yeah, well, at least everyone knows now not to fuck with Luigi's coffee," she replied with a shrug. "So as you can see, we're a little short-handed at the moment; I gotta help where I can."

"Sounds delightful," Nathan said absently, thoughtlessly rubbing the back of his left hand with his right thumb.

"Oh, yeah, tons of f— Holy hell, Nathan, what happened to you?" she asked, concerned, reaching for his hand. "You're even worse off than when I left you."

Nathan looked down at his hand, where his knuckles were still raw and bleeding. He'd plucked the slivers of mirror out of his hand on the way to the office building but it was still in agony. Flexing his hand-and forcing more blood to ooze to the surface in the process-he quickly tucked it into his pocket.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, staring at the floor.

Tonya sighed in annoyance and massaged her forehead. "Really, Nathan?" she asked, sounding exasperated. "Like I didn't just watch you look at your hand then stuff it in your pocket?"

"No," he shot back stubbornly and defiantly.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just remember that punching windows or mirrors or whatever you were going at it with is not a good idea. You wanna cut some tendons and not be able to use that hand at all?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it'd get me out of this job."

"You don't really believe that, do you? I mean, you signed a contract with Rotti fucking Largo; 'til death do you part."

"Yeah, yeah," Nathan grumbled before glancing over at the girl and noticing the bandages covering her hands and forearms, only the tips of her fingers left unwrapped. He frowned. "You don't look so good yourself."

Tonya looked down at the bandages as if she just remembered they were there. "Oh, it's nothing," she fumbled, nervously rubbing her knees.

"Doesn't look like nothing," Nathan said gently. "Did, did your father do that?"

"What?! N-No, i-it was a cooking accident. I was cooking and a fuck-ton of hot oil went all over my arms. Burnt the shit outta me, I had to get skin grafts," she said with a falsely nonchalant shrug. "Weird thing was I kinda smelled like bacon."

Nathan couldn't keep the horror from his face. "Th-that's awful!" he spluttered. "Are, are you sure you're all right?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," the young woman said, nodding.

He looked at her bandaged hands and forearms in concern. "Maybe I should take a look, just to be sure. I might be a bit rusty, but I can tell whether or not something's healing the way it should be."

Tonya recoiled as if an angry, hissing cobra had come slithering out of his mouth instead of a few simple words. Quickly and defensively, she folded her arms tightly across her chest.

"N-No, it's fine, it doesn't hurt or anything and I just had one of the in-house doc's take a look at it earlier," she stammered, avoiding his eyes.

"Oh, okay then."

He was surprised by just how disappointed he sounded and he couldn't be sure as to why he'd felt that in the first place. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed to like him, or, at the very least, she didn't shit on him every chance she had. Maybe it was simply that she was roughly Shilo's age and his fatherly instincts were kicking in. Whatever the reason, he was pretty sure it was contributing to the guilty feeling that was settling into his gut at making the young woman visibly uncomfortable. She was quiet now, arms still tight to her chest and her eyes refusing to turn his way, instead choosing to focus an apparently fascinating pattern in the dust coating the already dull and lifeless grey-olive tile that they were sitting on.

Nathan mentally kicked himself. He shouldn't have pushed the subject; it was clearly none of his business. Besides, she'd said she was fine, who was he to doubt her? But there was something that made him almost _need_ to know what she was hiding, a prickling uncertainty and suspicion in the back of his mind. It was almost as if—

"Hey, I, uh, I hope this isn't too forward or anything," the young woman began, finally turning to look at him again, though in a sketchy, flighty way, "but, uh, I got you something…"

Nathan felt his brow furrow in confusion (and pain, thanks to the cuts and bruises still marring his face). What on earth could she possibly have for him? It's not like they were friends, like she knew him, so why – ?

His thought was cut off by several incredibly graphic and mildly disturbing images of himself and the girl in the midst of various sex acts, images that surprisingly didn't make him feel as guilty or ashamed as he should have been; rather, they electrified and excited him. He caught himself eying Tonya, lingering on her mouth, tracing the curve of her neck and down over the subtle swell of her breasts to the dressings on her arms, bringing him back to the manner at hand. Nathan shook his head slightly to clear it, annoyed with himself that he'd gotten distracted.

"What is it?" he asked softly, giving her a small, encouraging smile that belied the filthy maelstrom of his thoughts.

"Well, I overheard Mr. Largo talking about the assignment he's sending you on and thought I'd help. So, I talked to a guy who knows a guy who always seems to know what's going on and _he_ said that the knock-offs haven't exactly made it to Sanitarium yet, only coming in pre-installed, y'know? But he heard from a friend on the mainland that they're seeing more and more folks scoring Z that _aren't _coming from GeneCo operations, and his friend ain't sure yet if it's good for business or not."

He looked at Tonya curiously, mind whirring as it tried to make sense of what she told him. "I'm not sure I'm following here. This business is – ?"

"Not exactly legitimate."

"Drugs," he said flatly. "Your sources are drug dealers."

"Among other things, yes. At least, the guy that my guy knows is; as for the dude on the mainland, no fucking clue."

A grave robber. Nothing else he could be. Nathan couldn't suppress a sneer. Scum. They were the scourge of GeneCo's existence, always desecrating corpses and undercutting Rotti's profits and pushing their illicit Zydrate. Normally he didn't pay them much mind-they avoided him, he avoided them, especially since his job wasn't security-but there were times he'd come across one at his grisly work and it made him thankful that Marni was somewhere that they couldn't get their filthy hands on her.

"That's not important though," Tonya went on, bringing him out of his thoughts. "What _is_ important is the fact that you're not going to have any luck searching around here, which is why I went ahead and got you passage on the next supply-ferry out."

Nathan was taken aback. Well, that _was_ rather forward. "I, umm, that," he fumbled, trying to figure out how to gracefully decline her offer. "That's very nice but—"

"But nothing, Nathan," she said, cutting him off. "Look, I'm just trying to help you out here, considering that you really don't have much of a choice in the matter. Mr. Largo's sending you out on a job, and you know damn well that you'd better do it, and do it right or else you'll have the face the consequences. And they won't be pretty."

Tonya stood abruptly, rummaged about in her pockets for a moment, and finally produced a small, plastic card, which she then handed to him.

"They're setting out in about an hour from the eastern docks. You'd better be there, or it'll be my ass as well as yours that's in the line of fire, got it?"

He nodded.

"Good. Show 'em that card, they'll know you're supposed to be there. I also booked you a room at a motel, the Rusted Scalpel-a shit-hole, but if you work quick you won't be there too long-same deal: show 'em the card, you'll get your keys."

Before he could respond, the young woman turned and sauntered off. He couldn't help but stare, watching the way she moved: a sort of utilitarian grace, like a wild animal, where no movement was wast—

"Oh," Tonya said suddenly, turning back to him. Nathan blushed a little, ashamed at being caught staring. "One more thing you should know: there's talk-nothing more than deep underground rumors at this point, mind you-of some bad shit happening to GeneCo employees over there, so, watch your ass."

Giving him a small smile and wave, she took a few steps backward and then to the side, disappearing around a corner and presumably down a hall. Nathan sighed, left alone again, and turned to the plastic in his hand. It was GeneCo green, with the company logo stamped in the top left corner, his picture printed below that and his name across the right-hand side in the white capitals of a Spartan font, not unlike a security badge or identification card. He turned it over in his hand as he did the same to the thoughts in his head.

Clearly the young woman didn't expect his journey to be a short one; otherwise she wouldn't have bothered to rent him a room in a motel. He really didn't like the sound of that as it meant leaving Shilo alone for God knew how long. But then, he really didn't have a choice, did he? Especially not if he wanted to keep his blood where it belonged, and he was rather fond of it staying inside his veins.

With a quiet sigh, he tucked the card into his breast pocket. Might as well get it over with. Nathan sighed again and punched the button on his wrist-com to dial Shilo. The dial tone sounded flatly once, twice, thrice. By the fourth time it buzzed tonelessly, panic had wrapped around his throat and squeezed tight. It toned a fifth time and he found that he couldn't breathe. A sixth time and then:

"Hey Daddy." She sounded breathless and that worried him.

"Is everything all right, sweetheart?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh, y-yeah, I'm fine," Shilo answered, verbally waving away his concern.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's just fine."

"Then why did it take you so long to answer?"

"I-I was busy."

Nathan frowned at the hologram and wished it was a live feed rather than the mostly static picture. He suspected she was lying but he couldn't tell for sure, unable to see her face.

"What were you doing?" Nathan pressed. "You know you're supposed to keep your com on you at all times."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, okay?" she huffed, sounding annoyed.

"You don't need to take that tone with me, young lady," Nathan said through gritted teeth, trying to keep from snapping at her. Hadn't he done enough to push her away already? "Just, promise me you'll keep it with you from now on, all right?"

"I-I will," Shilo said softly, evidently chastised. "Is, is something wrong?"

Nathan pulled his free hand down his face. "No, darling, nothing's wrong, it's just…" He sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and slowly let it out. "Shilo, honey, I, I have to go on a trip for work."

"A trip? W-What do you mean?" Shilo asked, echoing the concern in his own voice.

"I… I have to go to the mainland for a bit for a, a, doctor's conference and I-I'll probably be away for a few days. I, can I trust you to stay on your own?"

"Yes!" she squealed, her excitement smothering her worry. "I-I mean, yeah, of course."

"I won't be able to be there if you need me, you know that, right? And you'll have to cook for yourself, and take your medicine on your own, and put yourself to bed, and—"

"Dad, I know, it's okay. I'll be fine," she cut in, using her most soothing voice.

"But – !"

"No, really, I know the rules, I know where the food is and how to make it, know how and when to take my meds. It'll be okay."

"Don't go outside," her father warned.

"I know."

"Don't talk to anyone that comes to the house, especially God-peddlers."

"I know."

"And don't let anyone in. At all."

"I know!" Shilo spluttered. "I _am_ almost seventeen, something _you_ should know."

"I do know that," Nathan told his daughter softly, "and that's why I worry."

"Well, you don't need to, okay? I can take care of myself; you go and have a good time at your conference. I love you, Daddy."

The line went dead before he had a chance to reply.

"I love you, too," he murmured to himself.

He considered calling her back but thought better of it. Best not to push too hard; doing so usually ended in a figurative "fuck you" of Shilo doing the exact opposite. Cheerlessly, he turned back to the jet stack at his feet and nudged it with a toe. He didn't want to put it on, didn't want to have anything to do with Rotti's little game of search-and-destroy, didn't want to leave his daughter alone for any longer than a few hours. Nathan scowled. If he didn't deserve every single torment that got thrown his way, he would have taken a knife to the fat bastard's throat years ago.

Then again, it wasn't too late, was it? And wouldn't it be nice to watch that arrogant son of a bitch splutter and gurgle as he drowned in his own blood, eyes wide with terror and impotent rage?

He was taken aback by the vehemence of the feelings coursing through him and firmly thrust them away. As quickly as he could make his aching body go, Nathan pushed himself up onto his feet, then reluctantly pulled his uniform on. The leather sank onto him, settling into its well-worn shape and conforming to the unique form of his body, which it knew intimately. He shuddered, hating the way it clung to him and the things it had seen him do. Helmet tucked under one arm, he headed for the exit as rapidly as he could, trying to leave his thoughts behind him.

About halfway to the door he nearly tripped over something in the middle of the hallway. He barked a curse, pissed off, and turned to find out what the fuck he'd stumbled over. A GENtern-one of the nameless horde-lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of her own blood, her jaw half ripped off and her stomach torn open, intestines looped on the tiles like ropes. Her hands were twitching, too weak to reach the wounds they were desperately trying to cover, and she was breathing in short, shallow, ragged gulps, clearly her last. He studied her with cold eyes and a sneer on his face that would have curdled milk. Without thinking about what he was doing, Nathan slid one booted foot closer to her, lifting his toes off the floor as he did so, and pressed down against one of those coils lightly. The woman let out a soft groan that turned into a scream as he applied pressure, his sneer lifting into a sadistic grin. He crushed the organ beneath his boot, listening to her shriek grow louder before fading into a faint gurgling sound as she passed out or died, he wasn't sure which. Either way, he frowned and removed his foot, the game over. It just wasn't fun if they didn't scream.

Nathan caught himself, caught the things he was thinking and feeling, and felt his bile rise. Fighting down the urge to vomit, he nearly ran out of the building, every other step slapping wetly against the floor. He couldn't believe he did that, couldn't believe how much he'd enjoyed it. It made him feel… alive, and powerful, though not as much as if he'd gutted her himself and held onto her, feeling her heart gradually slow and stop under his hands. Oh, God, he had to get out of here. Not even pausing to pull on his helmet, Nathan broke into a run, only staggering to a stop when a fiery stitch in his side nearly made him collapse. Wheezing, he slumped heavily against the cold wall of a building to wait out the pain, wonderfully unaware of anything but the hot knife in his side. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing.

"Hey, mister, you okay?" a female voice asked behind him.

Nathan pressed his face against the soothing cement. "I'm fine," he mumbled, hopefully loud enough to be heard and wishing she'd go away.

"You sure?"

"I said I'm fine," he snarled, snapping away from the wall but not turning toward the woman. He could just barely see her over his shoulder: an ambiguous smudge on the edge of his vision.

"All right, all right, no need to bite my head off, I'm just trying to help," she said.

"Please just leave me alone," he growled.

"I'm going, I'm going," she replied, taking a step back, out of his line of sight. "I – Hey, did you drop something? There's a —"

She went real quiet real fast, the scared kind of quiet that comes right before panic. He heard something thump loudly on the pavement, presumably from the woman dropping whatever she'd been holding, and then the shuffling scrape of someone stumbling back in fright.

"Oh, oh, God, I'm so sorry," she spluttered, still fumbling away from him. "I-I didn't, didn't realize you were a, a – I always pay my bills on time, I swear, never made a late payment at all."

The woman went on in this vein as she fled from him in horror, tripping over her own feet in her hurry from the sound of it. When her voice finally faded to nothing, he turned to see what had spooked her, stopping and stooping as his boot bumped something. He picked up his helmet with a sigh and stared down at it, the mask forlornly returning his stare with its Plexiglas eyes.

"It's all right," he told it for some inexplicable reason, gently stroking the top edge. "Don't look at me like that, it's not my fault. They just don't understand. But I do, because we're the same, you and I: hard and terrifying on the outside—"

He flipped it over and stared at the opening.

"And hollow on the inside."

He was torn between laughing at the absurdity of him talking to his mask and crying at the frightening truth of his statement. Almost as if in protest to his thoughts_,_ an icy sensation started creeping into his limbs, and he shook himself all over before cracking a thin, humorless grin.

"Then again, maybe not," he went on, turning the helmet over in his hands. "Maybe it's just the opposite: I'm too damn full."

Nathan barked a dry, harsh laugh at that (how _could _he feel empty, there were too many people clamoring in his skull) and pulled the helmet over his head. Best get going, he didn't want to miss his ferry and fuck up the whole assignment because he was standing here talking to himself.

_I'm sure Rotti would _completely _understand,_ he thought sarcastically as he stalked off through the streets. _And he'd show me how much with a swift boot to the face._

Much to his surprise, where he'd stopped to catch his breath and inadvertently terrified the would-be helpful woman wasn't too far from the docks. He didn't think he'd ran for that long, and a quick glance the clock in the small booth by the gate showed that he still had a little over a half an hour before his ferry was scheduled to leave. He'd moved too quickly for his schedule, but unfortunately not fast enough to leave himself behind. Damn. He was about to turn and leave, to find something to do to wile away the time, when the bored-looking young man in the glass box looked up from his magazine and called out to him.

"Can I help you?" the boy asked, sounding slightly defensive, the way people do when they find someone where they're not supposed to be.

Nathan huffed and swept up to the window, drawing himself up to his full height and trying to sneer down at the boy, his efforts made futile through the plastic and leather. The young man merely blinked at him.

"Can I _help_ you?" he repeated, starting to sound annoyed.

"There's supposed to be a place for me on one of these ships," Nathan replied after a moment of gathering his thoughts and trying to speak them in a way that made sense.

The boy in the booth frowned a little. "I didn't know we'd hired anyone new. Do you have your paperwork?"

Nathan stared at the youth, bewildered. "Do I _look_ like a sailor?"

"Well, no, not really," the young man replied, looking Nathan up and down. The corner of his mouth curled in an unpleasant grin. "Though you do look like you wouldn't mind being underneath one."

"Listen here, you obnoxious little shit," Nathan seethed, yanking his helmet off and glaring through the glass. "I've got a goddamn job to do here and you're holding me up. I'm not sure how Mr. Largo would feel if I told him that you were the one keeping me from some very important work."

He couldn't help but feel a bit of smug satisfaction as the boy stared at him in bug-eyed shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Fishing the card from his pocket, Nathan slammed it against the booth, sending the window rattling.

"Now," he went on with a growl, "I was supposed to show you this and you were supposed to, well, I don't know exactly. But it sure as hell wasn't to give me grief."

"J-Just a second," the boy spluttered, practically giving his magazine a toss and grabbing a binder from underneath the desktop. He mumbled feverishly to himself as he flipped through pages, occasionally glancing back up to the plastic ID card in Nathan's hand. After a moment, he looked up with a shaky smile. "H-Here you are: Nathan Wallace, Repo man, ID number RTI5-81CH. Says here you're on the _Steel Lady_. She's in dock F, slip 66, all the way at the end. And I'm sorry about yelling, we get hobos around here all the time and —"

"Save your breath," Nathan snarled, palming the card and striding into the harbor.

Steel and concrete hummed dully beneath his boots and his nose wrinkled as he dodged still machinery and shipping crates. Even on the water, the island stank of industrialization-oil and metal and decay-perhaps even worse. He caught himself wondering about his destination, what it looked and smelled like; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been off the island. Had he ever left?

The booming clang of metal and the shouts of men startled him back to the real world, curiosity forgotten, at least for the moment. He found himself staring down a long pier, at the end of which he presumed was the _Steel Lady_, since it appeared to be the only ship showing any sort of activity at this unholy hour. Nathan briskly trotted down the wharf, lights and shouts growing louder the closer he came. The _Lady_ looked less like the ferry he'd been imagining in his head and more like a small, repurposed oil tanker. She was crawling with men, scuttling here and there, presumably making last minute preparations and loading the last bits of supplies. He had to cup his hands and shout to be heard over the din.

"Hello?" Nathan called.

A wiry man peered over the railing at him. "Who the hell are you?" he barked down.

"Is this the _Steel Lady_?"

"Yessir, what do you need?"

"I… Is there someone in charge that I can talk to?" Nathan hollered back, struggling not to croak. His throat was starting to get raw.

The man held up a single finger and disappeared. Moments later, another man, this one easily thrice as big as the first, came striding down the gangplank and towards Nathan. He came to stop just in front of him, settling into a wide, defensive stance with his arms crossed over his chest. Try as he might, he couldn't help but gawk at the man. Not quite as tall as Nathan (though few people were) he was seemed twice as wide, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with the physique of an older man maintained by hard labor rather than a gym, hair shorn short and bleached a grey-white non-color, and eyes of a faded blue. His clean-shaven face was lined and worn from sun and salt and wind.

"You wanted t' talk t' someone?" he asked with a half-sneer and a faint Southern accent.

"Yes, uh, Captain, I –"

The other man let out a rough guffaw and slid out of his defensive pose, tension easing. He spotted Nathan's confusion and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry to disappoint ya, but I ain't the captain. _He's_ in his office, overseein' some paperwork. 'M Bruce, his first mate, what can I do ya for?"

Nathan sighed and awkwardly began to explain the situation. Bruce watched him with mild interest, though there was something about the way he was watching Nathan that made him think that the other man picked up on more than he'd like to let on. He also couldn't help but notice that the hand that took his plastic ID card was missing the first finger and most of the second, and he thought he spied faint lines on the back, like a faded tattoo, but that could have just been a trick of the light playing across old, bulging veins. Bruce studied the card carefully for a moment.

"Hey, Harry?" he bellowed.

"Yes, sir?" came the response from somewhere on the ship.

"Ask the cap'n if he knows anything about a Nathan Wallace." He turned back to Nathan. "You do know we're a supply transport, right? Don't usually haul men, 'sides crew."

Nathan shrugged. "I just go where and do what I'm told," he replied, almost with a sigh.

The other man gave him a thin, knowing smile. "Don't we all."

Any response he was about to give was cut off by another man-presumably Harry-calling out to Bruce.

"He's right, Bruce. He's even on the manifest." Nathan thought he heard a stifled snigger. "Says here he's fragile, and we should handle him with care."

The rest of the crew didn't bother to stifle anything. He felt himself turn red-with embarrassment or anger, he wasn't sure which; maybe both-and stiffen. Giving him an almost apologetic smile, Bruce shrugged.

"Sorry, man, whoever set ya up must have a cruel sense o' humor. C'mon, I'll get ya settled in."

Wrapping a friendly arm around Nathan's shoulders, he led the taller man up the gangplank and onto the ship. The sway and creak of the metal beneath him put Nathan a little on edge, though it eased up a bit when Bruce found him a place to sit, out of the way of the work they were doing. The other man gave him a reassuring thump on his shoulder before rejoining his crew, roaring orders. Nathan watched them scurry back and forth for a bit, stacking boxes and crates on the deck and craning things in below, before tipping his head back and resting it against the slightly rusty wall. His mind started drifting almost as soon as his eyes shut. How could he be so tired? Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept.

He must have fallen asleep because he was completely unprepared for the way the ship lurched as she set out and nearly fell off of the upturned bucket he was sitting on. Despite the suddenness of the boat beneath him and the sleepy haze that still lurked in his head like a thick fog, Nathan managed to catch himself and maintain his seat. Groggily, he shook himself and rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand before hauling himself to his feet. He made his way over to the edge of the ship-mask clutched firmly in one hand-and leaned against the railing, tipping his head back and letting the salty breeze whip around him, stinging his face and mussing his hair. It felt nice, cold and clearing, and he let out a quiet, almost contended sigh.

"Wonderful, ain't it?" a gruff voice behind him asked.

He turned in time to see Bruce lean against the rail as well, a huge grin plastered on his face as he faced into the wind. Nathan wasn't sure what to make of the man, but it did no good to be rude, so he simply returned the expression and nodded, then realized that Bruce was facing away from him.

"Y-Yeah, it's great," he said aloud, hoping any redness in his face would be taken as caused by the biting wind, not his embarrassment.

"It's a little like flyin', only with your feet on somethin' solid, and if this old girl ends up sinkin', well, I can swim a helluva lot better than I can fly," Bruce finished with a laugh.

Nathan found himself joining in with the other's laughter. It was pleasant, to just laugh, and to hear someone laugh at something other than his misery, and that feeling lasted even as their laughter faded and the two men simply watched the ocean pass beneath them. Occasionally the ship would shudder a little and a limp, pale body would spin away from the hull, disappearing into the inky depths below. There were more than those floating at various depths in the water, bobbing and drifting ominously. Something in his stomach clenched at the sight, and he was glad the ship was so large; the last thing he wanted were those cloudy, lifeless eyes staring up at him accusingly.

"There's so many," Nathan murmured under his breath.

Much to his surprise, Bruce grunted in agreement; he hadn't thought he'd spoken loud enough for the other man to hear. "An' there seems to be more 'n more every day, though that could just be my head fuckin' with me."

"Where do they all come from?" Nathan asked, staring down at the water with a sick fascination.

The other man shrugged. "Dunno. People tryin' t' run 'cause they can't afford their fancy new organs, maybe, though I heard once that when the event happ'ned more folks died than could get buried so they just threw 'em into the sea."

Nathan frowned. "Then why are they still there?"

Another shrug. "Probably all the chemicals that've been dumped into the water. Killed a good bit o' the fish, preserved the bodies too I suppose. Don't seem all that far-fetched when you realize that nobody really knows what's in there. Hell, could be mostly formaldehyde now for all anyone knows."

"Jesus," Nathan said breathlessly.

The sailor barked a humorless laugh. "I don't think him or his old man're payin' attention anymore," he said flatly. "Not with –"

Bruce cut the thought short with an almost nervous glance over at Nathan, who knew-at least in general-what he was going to say, and understood his nervousness. He'd be worried too if he bad-mouthed a company with someone that was so close to the boss right next to him. Then again, he didn't really care. The man was right; GeneCo was a godless empire. Nathan opened his mouth to say as much, but just as he did, Bruce clapped him on the shoulder and excused himself, saying he had work to get to.

Nathan sighed and turned back to the sea, watching it foam against the ship's hull as she sliced through the water. He watched the sky as well, the clouds scuttling past, and caught the occasional glint of a star, which made him smile a little. He hadn't seen stars in ages, usually too preoccupied by being buried wrist-deep in some poor schmuck to look up; not that he would have seen any anyhow, not with all the light and smog that always hung in the air. Occasionally he would throw a glance forward, marveling each time at how much closer the far shore grew. The ship felt like it was barely moving at all, but the lights seemed to jump at him each time he looked back at them; they were going to get there in no time at all.

His stomach knotted up at that realization. Suddenly their destination seemed to loom over him and he turned quickly away, trying to focus on the wind against his face and not the nauseating tension in his gut, though it didn't work. Nathan choked down the bile that rose in his throat once, twice. The third time he couldn't stop himself and he vomited over the side, hoping that no one was around to see. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of one shaky hand and closed his eyes, staying leaned over the rail and just trying to breathe. He stayed like that for a long time, just breathing and feeling the wind lash his face, until he felt the boat clunk to a stop. Surprised, he opened his eyes and found himself in another dock, this one rustier and shabbier than the last. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to find Bruce smiling at him.

"Why don't you go on and clear outta here before we start unloadin', yeah?"

Nathan couldn't help but smile back and nod. "Yeah. Don't want to be in your way, do I?"

The big man guffawed. "Nope. Might get squarshed, and we don't want that." Bruce's smiled suddenly didn't seem to reach his eyes, and Nathan felt a cold shiver run up his spine. "That'd be, unfortunate."

Nathan nodded and smiled shakily back before stepping around the big man.

"Oh, and Nate? Be careful lookin' for them scoundrels."

He made it only a few paces before he froze, realization dawning on him: he hadn't said _anything_ to the man about what he was here to do, so how the hell did he know? Fear welling up, he started to run, but he didn't make it more than a few feet before huge, strong arms were wrapping around him. He started to yell and flail, trying to fight back, but a diminished hand pressed a cloth over his mouth and nose. The stench was acrid and chemical, making his nose and throat burn for a moment before everything went blissfully black.

* * *

**Ugh, folks, I don't have much to say other than I'm so sorry that this took so long I was just... In a helluva slump. It's not that I haven't been writing, I have, just, original stuff and things I'm too ashamed to post here. (Porn. So much porn.) Seriously, guys here. There's even a Repo! high school AU where Nate is a teenage prostitute. (... Yeah, I mentioned there's terrible things I'm ashamed/proud of, right?)**

**I hope this tides you guys over. I know it's not the most exciting chapter in the whole world, but, it does what I wanted it to do.**


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